The Dresden Fillies: Great Power
by psychicscubadiver
Summary: It's been a while since the girls have seen their good friend, Harry Dresden. They tried inviting him back, but between his new job and new apprentice, Dresden always claimed to be too busy. The solution was obvious; he couldn't come to them, they needed to visit him. Besides they say Earth is lovely this time of year. What could go wrong?
1. Prologue

The Dresden Fillies: Great Power

Written by: psychicscubadiver

Edited by: SilentCarto

Proofreader: Coandco

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, that is Jim Butcher and Hasbro, respectively. This is a fanfiction only. This story takes place between Seasons Two and Three in MLP and between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files.

Prologue

Marge had spent thirty-odd years serving truckers, drunks, teenagers, insomniacs, and whatever odds and ends washed up around 1 AM at a small all-night diner off of I-94. It wasn't the easiest life, but she had managed to raise a kid and keep herself out of poverty without ever needing a government handout. As a side benefit, Marge had never needed to travel to see the strange or exotic; at a place like this, the weird stuff found its way to you.

It was close to sunset, and her shift had just started when some of that strangeness showed up. The college students peering in the front window weren't the strangest folks she'd ever seen, but they certainly made the top ten. There were three girls in their late teens or early twenties. That wasn't too strange; sometimes the diner got kids up from the University of Minnesota looking for directions. It was their appearance that made these three stick out. Two of them nodded to each other like soldiers readying themselves for battle, and the third tapped her foot impatiently and pouted. At last, one of them opened the door and they entered.

The first girl through was thin and taller than most men, with skin that hadn't seen much in the way of sunlight. The dignity of her sensible haircut was undermined by its deep purple color and the pink accents. She must have been wearing contacts, because her lavender eyes matched her sweater-vest. The rest of her clothing, a blouse and long skirt, was royal purple. Marge figured she could guess the girl's favorite color without too much trouble.

A short black girl stormed in behind her, warily hostile. Her hair put Ms. Purple's to shame; it was dyed every color of the rainbow in alternating streaks and looked like it hadn't been brushed this year. Her pink eyes – must've been another set of contacts – blazed as she strode into the diner like she was the toughest thing in town. Despite the girl's lean, corded muscles, Marge doubted she'd have an easy time backing up that attitude.

A pair of bright blue eyes peered here, there and everywhere as the third girl stared at everything in the diner with an almost comic sense of wonder. She was rosy-cheeked and built like a Bavarian barmaid. Her dress was a frilly, overly busy pink thing not often seen outside of little girls' birthdays, and it struggled to contain her chest as she bounced between her friends with the energy of a sugar buzzed toddler. Her curly, wildly frizzed hair was dyed almost neon pink, which was only par for the course with this bunch.

Marge waited for them to take a seat or come up to the counter. They did neither. Instead, Ms. Purple closed her eyes and stood perfectly still. Ms. Attitude glared at everybody in the diner, protectively circling her friend. Bouncy Girl hopped over and started playing the claw game, though Marge didn't recall seeing her put in any money.

Right about then, the lights started to flicker throughout the building. The cash register turned off and on, making that horrible start-up noise, and a whining buzz of static squealed briefly from the TV that muttered in the corner. Marge cursed the lousy wiring in the old place under her breath. The cooks in back did it at the top of their lungs – thank goodness there weren't any kids in the dining room to hear them. Ms. Purple opened her eyes and smiled. She leaned over and whispered something to Ms. Attitude. They retreated to the entrance of the diner and both yelled something that was lost in the roar of the nearby highway.

Whoever it was meant for must have heard, because another three girls and a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy came into view.

When Ms. Attitude strutted in this time, she had a shadow. A short little slip of a girl in a yellow summer dress almost hid behind her. Marge couldn't decide if the new girl's trembling was because of the early September breeze or the nervous expression that she guarded behind her rose-colored bangs.

An Asian girl watched her steps carefully as she entered, trepidation clear. Expertly applied makeup and an elegant hair style suggested money; the diamond studded necklace and bracelets confirmed it. Indigo hair and royal blue eyes were a strange combination, but hardly worse than any of her friends. Her dress could have been mistaken for an evening gown, and Marge would've sworn she was wearing actual glass slippers. Her hourglass figure filled out her dress perfectly, which quickly grabbed the eye of every man in the place. The fact that it was a chilly evening and she wasn't wearing a bra made that a guarantee.

All that interest wasn't missed by the Hispanic boy close at her side. He glared at anyone watching her with the same expression that Ms. Attitude gave to everyone, but at five-two and thin as a rail, he wasn't going to slow down much of anyone. Still, there was something about him that made Marge uncomfortable, and it wasn't the baggy jeans or plain black t-shirt. His canines seemed too long and his nails looked sharp. Then there were his intense eyes: emerald green, the same color as his spiked hair.

The last girl to enter was the only normal one in the bunch. Tall, muscular and corn fed, she looked like she could have just walked off of any farm in the Midwest. No crazy hair colors or outfits, just blond and blue jeans with a plaid flannel shirt and a worn Stetson. Whether those other girls had always been weird or if college had just encouraged them to 'go wild', this one looked to be the group's voice of reason.

They all gathered together for a whispered conference, except for Bouncy Girl, who was still busy hunting stuffed animals. The dinner rush wouldn't come until another hour or so, but Marge's patience was still starting to fray. At last they finished, and Ms. Purple cautiously drew up to the counter.

"Hello," she said with a careful smile. Her nose wrinkled, and her smile faded for a moment before she forced it back. Marge crossed her arms and tried not to scowl. The Cold Country Diner wasn't exactly a five-star restaurant, but they ran a clean place and served better food than any stereotype would give them credit for.

Her reaction didn't go unnoticed. "Sorry," Ms. Purple said with a sheepish smile. "I'm not used to the smell of cooking meat. It's… difficult to adjust. I just need directions to a friend's house."

Not used to meat? Her parents must have been hippies, or some other flavor of vegetarian. That would go a long way towards explaining her appearance. In an instant, Marge's heart went out to the poor girl. "Sure thing. I'd love to help. Where does your friend live?" And if it got these kids out of the diner, that was just a bonus.

Ms. Purple beamed, and the boy celebrated the news with a fist pump. The rest looked hopeful, but they were a little more reserved in their reactions. "Thank you. His name is Harry Dresden, and he lives in Chicago."

There was a moment of silence as Marge digested this information. With anybody else she would've sworn this was some kind of weird prank, but these girls had an earnest look that couldn't be faked. Maybe they were Canadian? And somehow hadn't checked a map before setting off on a trip to Chicago? "Well, the good news is that you're on the right road. The bad is that Chicago is around five hundred miles southeast of here."

Their jaws all but dropped. Ms. Attitude shook her head in disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding me! What, does he live on the other side of the _country?_ "

"Dash…" Ms. Purple scolded quietly, her shoulders tense.

"No...?" Marge ventured cautiously, the weird meter ticking higher and higher. That settled that they _were_ foreign, but for the life of her, Marge couldn't imagine where they were from or how they'd ended up in the middle of Minnesota with no idea where they were going. She grabbed a road atlas from the small spinner next to the counter and flipped it open to the 'Continental US' page. They gathered in closely to get a look. "This is about where we are," she said, then traced the thin line that represented I-94 down to the southeast. "This is where your friend lives. He's only a couple of states away."

"It appears we underestimated the size of our friend's country," the Bombshell Asian said.

"Well, all right. Is there a train station nearby?" Cowgirl asked in a strong Southern accent. Which was an odd thing to hear from somebody who was supposed to be foreign.

"Maybe in Minneapolis, but not around here. Besides, you're on the right road. Why not just drive it? Is there something wrong with your car?"

All she received was a sea of blank looks. Ms. Purple forced a smile and chuckled nervously, a couple of locks of hair springing out of place. "Right. Our car. Because we definitely have one of those, like normal humans."

Bouncy Girl wandered back to the group, her arms overflowing with stuffed prizes, even though Marge hadn't noticed her win anything. Pushing a Pikachu knockoff into Ms. Shadow's hands, she stage-whispered loud enough for the whole diner to hear, "What's a car?"


	2. Chapter 1

The Dresden Fillies: Great Power

Written by: psychicscubadiver

Edited by: SilentCarto

Proofreader: Coandco

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, that is Jim Butcher and Hasbro, respectively. This is a fanfiction only. This story takes place between Seasons Two and Three in MLP and between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files.

Chapter One

The sun had almost set and only a dim orange glare illuminated the land. Six young ladies and one teenaged boy, most of their hair colored in hues not available without the aid of chemicals, trooped alongside a mostly empty 'highway'. Every now and then one of the rumbling human carts raced by at incredible speeds.

"That could have gone better," Twilight said, running her hand through her mane. Or whatever humans called the long hair on their heads. The lack of hair anywhere else wasn't just weird, it was also completely impractical in this chilly weather. No wonder nudity was a taboo; humans must have to wear clothing all the time just to keep from freezing. Having hands had been useful thus far, though. Twilight could see why Dresden had been reluctant to give up his.

"You think? _I_ had a good time," Pinkie declared proudly, her arms still full of plush animals.

"When you get evicted from a _diner_ , you know you've hit rock bottom, dear," Rarity said. She sighed and began digging through the large backpack carried by the teenage boy. "It would appear that despite Dresden's description of his home, we are somewhat less prepared than we might have hoped." At last she found a more sensible pair of shoes for hiking than the crystal heels she had hoped to make a good impression with.

"Changing shoes _again_?" Dash asked from the front of the group.

"Yes," Rarity replied testily. "I don't know if you've noticed, but human feet are a tad more delicate than hooves."

"Really?" Applejack asked. "I've been walking on mine all day, and they don't feel too bad."

"Well, your earth pony toughness and vitality is still a part of you. The spell I used shouldn't affect any of our natural magic, just the shape of our bodies," Twilight said. "That's why Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash aren't complaining about the cold, even though their clothing is probably the thinnest."

Dash glanced at her thin shirt and knee length shorts, and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well whoop-de-doo. That silver lining isn't worth much without wings. I thought it was bad enough when Discord took 'em, but that was only for a little while. How does Dresden _live_ like this?" she complained.

"Well, I think it's fun!" Pinkie said, giggling slightly. "It's like walking on stilts _all the time!_ " Her various prizes had disappeared, but at this point in their friendship, the other ponies-turned-human didn't even take notice.

"Whatever. So once Princess Dainty Hooves is done changing shoes, what's the plan?" Dash asked Twilight, ignoring the loud protests from 'Princess Dainty Hooves'.

"Plan A was to arrive normally, thereby attracting as little attention as possible. Given the distance between us and Dresden, that plan is untenable. Unfortunately, that distance also renders Plans B through E similarly untenable–"

Applejack snorted. "Do I wanna ask?"

"No," Spike said solemnly, his eyes haunted. "No, you do not."

"However," Twilight continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "Plan F should still work perfectly fine. We just need a secluded place away from distractions with a hard surface I can write on."

"I don't know about 'secluded', but given how much asphalt humans seem to use, you're certainly in luck there," Rarity said as she finally finished packing her crystal shoes away.

"Well, I hope we find one soon," Twilight said. "The sun is going down, and it will only get colder at night." She frowned. "We didn't exactly bring any camping gear, either."

"That sign says there's an exit in another mile. How about up there?" Pinkie asked, pointing to another bright green sign at the side of the road ahead.

'Up there' turned out to be a lonely stretch of road with nothing but an abandoned building of some kind. An old, faded sign declared that the building was a 'Texaco', whatever those were. Most of the asphalt surrounding the building was cracked and overgrown with weeds, but there was enough unbroken surface for Twilight to start scratching out her chalk circle.

"Rarity, could you give me some light here?" Twilight asked, scowling at the long shadows criss-crossing the ground.

Rarity straightened her dress nervously. "Oh dear. I'll try. How do we use magic without a horn, again?"

Twilight sat back on her heels, glad that everyone had spent a little extra time getting used to being a human. There was a trick to balancing on two legs that was entirely different from standing on your hind hooves. "Just focus on your hands like you would your horn. It will feel a little strange, but it works the same way."

"Very well. I shall do my best." Rarity took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her hands shook as she extended them, but a few moments later tiny motes of soft white light appeared on the tip of each finger. The light they cast slowly grew brighter and brighter until they illuminated the entire area with an even glow. "Wha-ha-ha!" Rarity laughed with abandon, and the light from her hands pulsed even brighter. "I can do this! There's no dimension in which fabulosity is not at my beck and call! Be warned, boutiques of the human world! I, Rarity, shall—" She cut off suddenly as she realized that everyone except Twilight was staring at her in silence. Rarity blushed intensely. "Er… or perhaps I am getting a touch carried away."

"Yes, but it's not your fault. Mastering a new type of magic always gives me a minor sense of euphoria." Twilight worked as she spoke, still sketching lines and symbols into a large circle. With her back turned, she never saw the worried expression flit across Rarity's face at that statement. "However, as a human, you use energy less efficiently, and therefore tire more quickly. I suspect that Dresden's tools help him control his powers with less energy waste, performing the same function we naturally access through our horns."

"Well, ain't that strange. You thinkin' that applies to all of us, or just unicorns?" Applejack asked, examining the muscles in her arm curiously.

"I'm not sure," Twilight answered, pausing in her drawing to frown pensively. "I didn't exactly have a chance to run tests with all of you. I would expect that, since earth pony and pegasus magic tends to be more innate, their effects would not be reduced. But only time will tell."

"Okay, so any chance we can wrap up the egghead talk and get going?" Dash demanded. She glared at the growing shadows, and the nearby woods. "From what Dresden said, we don't wanna get caught outside after dark." A shudder ran through the group as a coyote howled in the distance.

"Almost finished. I'm not confident enough in my magic as a human to try this without some precautions. This circle has to be done right, or we could teleport _into_ a wall. I've heard stories about that back in Celestia's school. They never ended happily."

Pinkie bounced a small rubber ball against the old building before snatching it out of the air suddenly. Her expression was strangely solemn. "Okay… so I've been thinking…"

"Did it hurt?" Spike quipped.

"A little," Pinkie replied with a serious nod. "But I've figured out what 'cars' are. I think that's what the humans call those weird carts that have been using the road."

"Oh, 'car' like a train car. I get it," Applejack said with a nod.

Fluttershy cocked her head. "That makes sense, but why would she expect us to have one? Not everypony owns a cart."

"Maybe, but from how she was talking, I guess just about all the humans have one," Spike said.

"Indeed," Rarity agreed. "Likely it has to do with the size of Dresden's country. Given how empty everything around here is, I doubt it would be cost effective to run enough trains to take everyone where they wanted to go. Those individual cars let people travel anywhere there are roads without a need to coordinate their travel. Perhaps in areas of more dense population, trains are more common; places like that 'Mini-apple-less' the waitress mentioned." She paused a moment, seemingly surprised with herself. "And here I thought I'd never use those Economics classes."

Twilight stood, dusting off her hands and tucking a large piece of chalk back in her pocket. The diagram she had sketched out was a series of concentric circles each one with a host of symbols and writings between each layer. There were six smaller circles linked to the main array by three parallel lines. "Okay, that should do it. Everyone stand in one of the circles. Just be careful not to smudge the chalk and keep everything inside the lines."

"Fancy looking," Applejack said. "Where will this take us?"

"Somewhere in Chicago. I'm centering it on Dresden, but there's a, um, margin of error involved."

"A what?" Dash asked.

"A chance we all go kaboom," Spike answered drily. Dash jumped back as though the circle would bite her, and Fluttershy squeaked in fear.

"Spike!" Twilight shouted, glaring at him. "It will _not_ 'go kaboom'. The margin of error refers to how close we get to Dresden. At worst, we appear three hundred feet away from him. If we're lucky, we'll be right next to him, but if not we may have to do some looking around."

"He's not exactly an easy guy to miss," Pinkie said with a laugh. "Lead on with your leading, leader!"

"Right," Twilight said. Everyone was in position, so she stepped into the very center of the circles. A shiver went through her as the last of the sunset's red light faded away. Darkness seemed to creep in all around her, and Twilight abruptly wondered _why_ the building had been abandoned. Bushes at the edge of the forest rustled, and Twilight thought she saw a gleaming pair of eyes. Maybe it was a wild animal curious about several humans close to its territory. But maybe it wasn't.

Either way, Twilight began her spell, closing the circles and focusing her will. " **Harry Dresden. Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden.** " She chanted his name several times, her focus and surety growing with every repetition.

White light flashed in the parking lot of the old Texaco off of I-94, and it was empty once more.

…

It was not the smoothest teleport Twilight had ever performed. An explosion of dust and lightning announced their arrival, and the force of their displacement tossed everyone away from the sizzling lines burned into the asphalt beneath them.

Twilight shook her head, trying to clear away her dizziness and disorientation. It had definitely worked, at least to some extent. They were in an alleyway between two buildings, and a peculiar roaring filtered in from the streets nearby along with dozens of other noises.

"Wowee," Pinkie said, springing to her feet. "There aren't any rides like _that_ at the carnival!"

"Sorry the landing was a bit rough," Twilight said.

"A bit?" Spike grumbled, pulling himself out from between two large garbage cans.

"Where are we?" Rarity asked, while carefully dusting off her dress.

"I'll take a look," Dash said. She did a couple of stretches, her head tilted up. By the time Twilight realized what she was planning, Dash was already putting it into action. Her long hind legs coiled like a pair of steel springs and she shot into the air, narrowly avoiding a fire escape on the side of one building. Up and up she went, far higher than Twilight had ever seen a pony jump, but there was limit, even aided by her pegasus magic. Dash's momentum slowed to a crawl just short of the top of the building. Her hands lashed out in time to catch the edge, and she vaulted up and over before gravity could catch up. Twilight let out a long, slow breath.

"Did Dash just jump four stories?" Spike asked slowly.

"I _did_ say that everyone would retain their natural magic, didn't I?" Twilight said testily, trying to hide how nervous Dash's stunt had made her. "She can't fly without wings, but she can still get quite a bit of lift."

"Did she know that afore she pulled such a foolhardy trick?" Applejack asked, staring worriedly at the edge of the building where Dash at disappeared.

"She probably didn't even think about it," Fluttershy said. "Dash is, um, used to going wherever she wants."

"Wow, you guys are not gonna believe this!" Dash shouted, poking her head over the ledge. "Walk over that way and there's a street around the bend in the alley. Once you're out, look _that_ way!" She pointed in two directions at once, but Twilight could figure out what she meant. She hoped. Pinkie bounced towards the mouth of the alleyway, rounding the bend in just a few hops, and the rest of the group followed her a little more cautiously.

Dash's reaction hadn't been overdone. Canterlot was a city of beautiful classical architecture. Manehatten was a working modern city with the tallest buildings in Equestria. Las Pegasus was a glitzy collection of attention-grabbing showpieces.

Chicago was _massive_.

It had dozens of skyscrapers, and for once, that name didn't seem like an exaggeration. Twilight counted over thirty stories on the closest tower, and that was one of the shorter ones. All of the skyscrapers were at least half a mile away, but she had no problem picking them out. They dominated the horizon, each and every one of them awash in lights that dispelled any darkness that might dare to cling to them. With a muffled thump Dash landed somewhere in the alley behind them. A few humans glanced their way at the noise, but Dash was out of sight, and none of their gazes lingered long. Each one seemed too busy with what they were doing or where they were going.

"Ouch, remind me not to do that again. It's killer on the hocks," Dash complained, pausing for a moment. "Do humans call them hocks? They bend all funny."

"Dresden referred to his primary leg joints as 'knees'," Twilight replied absentmindedly, still staring at those massive towers in the near distance. She stopped gawking and focused on her surroundings. A few passing humans gave them some odd looks, but most of the humans ignored them. The streets were not as crowded as Twilight would have thought, given the size of the city. At least, the sides weren't. The middle was packed with more cars. There was considerable variety among them: everything from an extra-long black car that clearly flaunted wealth to a small dome-like car, covered in dents and mismatching colors.

"Shoot. And here I thought Manehatten was big," Applejack drawled.

"So, what did you see from the top?" Twilight asked Dash. "Are we in a satellite city that's in close proximity, or does Chicago actually extend this far?"

Dash frowned. "It's hard to tell in the dark, but it's solid lights for miles in most directions. I wasn't really high enough to judge how far. I think those towers are just the middle."

"Surely you jest!" Rarity exclaimed. "That would make this city larger than Canterlot and Manehatten combined! And not by a small margin."

"Dresden did say that there were six billion humans," Fluttershy offered quietly.

"Somehow, I believe him," Twilight said. Then a thought struck her. "Wait, where's Pinkie?"

"Girls! Lookit what I found!"

Twilight did not know what she had expected. Maybe some variety of human pastry? Certainly not a small human. Pinkie bounced along, and the child giggled and reached for her hair with tiny, grasping hands.

"Pinkie! You can't just steal someone's baby!" Twilight's heart pounded suddenly in her ribcage, visions of human dungeons flashing before her eyes. There would be mold and rats, she just knew it. And big iron chains deep underground where nopony would ever think to look for her.

"I didn't _steal_ him! I _found_ him." Pinkie explained patiently as the child finally snagged a lock of hair and promptly stuffed it into his mouth.

"I think we're gonna need some explanation here, sugarcube," Applejack said, scratching her head. "Like _where_ you found 'em."

"Okay, so I came out of the alley and saw the city in the distance and was like 'Woah! That's huge!' But then I smelled something delicious and I followed my nose down the block and I found a bakery and everything looked delicious but we don't have any human money so I was sad, but then I cheered right up because there was a playground right next to it so I went on the swings and climbed the jungle gym which incidentally is a _lot_ easier with hands, almost like hands were what they were built for, which actually makes sense, I mean, why would ponies need to climb, because kitties and monkeys and lizards climb, but not ponies, so I was pondering the origin of Equestrian jungle gyms when I noticed this little guy toddling onto the playground, and I looked all around but I didn't see his mommy or daddy anywhere so I brought him back with me! Can we keep him? Please?"

"Keep him?!" Twilight, Rarity and Applejack shouted in concert.

"If we do, I am _not_ changing any diapers," Spike declared, crossing his arms.

Dash just snorted. "We have to, don't we? Now that Pinkie picked him up, his mother won't recognize his smell and won't take him back to the nest. I'm with Spike, though. I call 'not it' on diaper detail."

"That's not how primates work, even assuming humans weren't sapient!" Twilight yelled. That got a few more stares from passing humans, and she distinctly saw one of them make a spiral gesture around one of his temples, causing his friends to laugh. A bright, hot flush washed across her face, and Twilight lowered her voice. "We need to find his parents, or failing that, turn him over to the proper governmental agency."

"Aw, but he's sooo cute!" Pinkie said. "Look at his tiny hands, and those chubby cheeks. And he even came with a little hat, look!" She pulled a floppy piece of denim out from somewhere and placed it on his head. The child giggled and grabbed the hat by both sides of the brim, yanking it down to cover his face.

Pinkie gasped. "Where'd you go?" And the child giggled and pushed his hat back up.

"Okay, I gotta admit, that is pretty darned cute," Applejack said.

Twilight agreed with her, but this was no time to go soft. She needed to put her hoof down. And she would have if Fluttershy hadn't suddenly stepped forward, her arms extended to the toddler. Pinkie handed him over with a smile, and Fluttershy drew him in close. The child made some happy murmuring sounds, as if he enjoyed being held by her. Fluttershy's arms shook as they closed around the baby. She locked eyes with Twilight, her stare strangely intense.

"I want one," she said.

"What?! Fluttershy, we are not keeping him!"

"It doesn't have to be this baby," she said plaintively, her possessive posture at odds with her words. "But I would take really good care of one, honest."

"Well, I guess that's settled," Dash said. She was attempting to look bored, but Twilight had seen her making faces at the toddler when she'd thought no one had been looking. "So what are we going to name him?"

"He's already got a name. It's on his overalls," Pinkie said.

"Osh Kosh," Rarity read off while Fluttershy cooed and played with the little boy. "What a curious name."

A vein began to throb in Twilight's temple. Was she the only sane pony left, or–

"There you are!"

Twilight jumped like a nervous cat and did her best not to look guilty. Everyone turned towards the source of the voice, and they saw a tired-looking human woman pushing an odd-looking stroller. One of its two seats was filled by another human child that could have been Osh Kosh's twin. The woman rushed towards them, the child in the stroller making whining noises the whole way. Slightly behind her was an older male human in a black, or maybe dark blue, uniform of some kind.

"Mama!" Osh Kosh shouted, stretching his little arms out to her, almost wriggling out of Fluttershy's grasp.

"Oh, thank God! I thought I'd lost you," she cried, drawing her child to her and squeezing him tightly.

"Mama, mama, mama!" Osh Kosh chanted happily. His brother whined and made pleading noises, stretching out his arms towards their mother, evidently wanting his share of attention.

"Awwww, that's so touching," Pinkie said, her eyes watering. She sniffed a couple of times and blew her nose into a hanky, showing no sign of her intentions to keep him not a minute before. Twilight let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Thank you, thank all of you," the mother said. "Donnie was being fussy about getting into the stroller and the moment I had my back turned Leo just wandered off. I thought I was going to have a heart attack."

"No need to thank us," Dash said, crossing her arms and smiling smugly. "It's the kind of thing heroes like us do."

Fortunately, the mother was too busy wrestling 'Leo' into the stroller to notice. The older male, however, cocked an eyebrow at that. "Don't worry, Mrs. Michaels," he said to the frazzled mother. "I can take everything from here. You just get home safely, now."

She thanked both them and the uniformed man again, and hurried off. Pinkie and Fluttershy waved good-bye to Leo, but Twilight kept her eyes on the older male. He was examining them a lot more intently than had any human before.

Applejack cleared her throat. "So… I didn't catch your name there, mister…?"

"Officer," he said.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mister Officer," Rarity said. Perhaps not all human names were that different from Equestria ones.

He stared at Rarity for a second. "Officer Perkins," he corrected, arching an eyebrow. "I just have a few questions for all of you."

"Are we in trouble?" Spike asked, echoing Twilight's panicked thoughts precisely.

"No, no," Officer Perkins said calmly. He pulled out a small notebook from one of his many pockets and pouches and opened it up. "I just need some more details before I can write up my report on this. Approximately when and where did you find the child?"

Everyone turned to look at Pinkie. She frowned in concentration, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. "In the park over there about twenty minutes and sixteen seconds ago."

"Uh-huh." His pencil scratched across the paper, and his expression never changed. Fluttershy had hidden herself behind Applejack and Rainbow Dash, but Twilight could see her shivering and watching the officer warily. Officer Perkins continued his questions. "Did you see anyone else with or near him? Another child or an adult, maybe?"

"Nope," Pinkie said.

Officer Perkins nodded. "That's consistent with the mother's story. But why didn't you take him to the police station?"

"Because I don't know where it is," Pinkie replied. Twilight let out another sigh of relief. The officer didn't seem to suspect them of anything. Hopefully, once he was done they could ask him for his help locating Dresden.

"Also, because I figured we would keep him and raise him as one of our own if we couldn't find his parents," Pinkie continued.

Officer Perkins shut his notebook with a snap, his expression unchanged. "Really?" he asked.

"I'm _so_ sorry!" Fluttershy sobbed, falling to her knees. She looked up, her eyes wet with tears. "He was just so _cute!_ I couldn't help myself."

"Ha ha, what a pair of jokesters those two are," Twilight said nervously, offering her best and least insane fake smile. Officer Perkins just stared at her, and her smile cracked. "I wasn't going to let them keep him. We really didn't know what to do, but we weren't going to steal that baby, I promise."

Officer Perkins just let out a heavy sigh and started massaging his forehead. "This is going to be one of _those_ nights, isn't it?"

No one replied to him, but a few guilty glances were exchanged. Rarity bent down to comfort Fluttershy and offered a small lacy handkerchief.

The officer tucked away his little notebook and sighed again. "Just on the off chance you find another toddler, take them to the nearest police station. I would hate to pull any of you in for kidnapping over something this stupid."

"Wait, please," Twilight said before he had the chance to turn away. "We're new in town and we're looking for our friend. We don't know where he lives, but his name is Harry Dresden. Can you help us?"

Officer Perkins frowned and started to speak, but then paused, thinking something over. "I've heard that name before. Huh, but where was it?"

"If I recall correctly, he's a private investigator," Rarity offered. "One who specializes in … odd cases."

Officer Perkins snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah. That where I heard of him. Harry Dresden, he's some kind of 'psychic detective'; the kooks down in SI call him up all the time." He snorted disdainfully. "The psychic thing is a cheap gimmick, but I hear he's not a half bad detective. Of course, if half the rumors about him and Marcone are true, he probably gets plenty of insider info." He paused and looked concerned. "What do you girls want with a rough guy like him? If you need a detective, I can name plenty who do good work and aren't so high risk."

Twilight shook her head. "No, we're just visiting. He came to our town a little while ago, and we became friends. We just wanted to stop by, see him and maybe see the sights here in Chicago." Her smile this time was bright and warm. "This city is amazing."

He chuckled at that a little. "Yeah, she's a real piece of work, this city. Anyway, I don't know where he lives, but SI should be able to help you there. You can follow me back to the precinct."

"Thanks so much." Twilight beamed. Despite a rocky start it looked like everything was going to be smooth sailing from here. "It's close enough to walk?"

He frowned. "I meant in your car."

"Oh," she said her smile faltering. "Um… we don't have one."

He stared at them for a long time and at last he sighed again. "This is definitely one of _those_ nights."

…

The precinct looked like a small fortress. It was far from the humble police station that Twilight had been expecting. Still, the humans inside were certainly friendly enough, even if they did stare sometimes. _It must be the hair,_ Twilight concluded. Even given her admittedly small sample size, she had not seen a single human with hair that was purple, pink, green or rainbow-striped. However, given that the staring was not terribly pronounced, perhaps such colors were simply rare, rather than unheard of.

Officer Perkins led them to a corner of the building that looked a little more careworn than the rest, except for a few odd patches of construction or repairs that looked only a few years old, rather than the decades that the rest of the building had seen. A sign next to a door read 'Special Investigations' and Officer Perkins breezed right through without knocking.

There was a gray-haired elderly human woman sitting at a desk, tapping away at something that looked like a flattened typewriter without any paper. Whatever it was, the woman stopped as the officer approached. "Good evening," Officer Perkins said, nodded to her. She scowled and inspected both him and the entire group. Everyone hung back, uncertain what to do. The building was quieter here than elsewhere, but two or three humans still bustled around.

"Try 'night'," the woman answered sourly. "What else do you have for us? Half the department is already out and the rest are buried in paperwork. We don't need any more problems dumped on us because the other departments can't bother."

"Aww, but we're not a problem. Unless you're unprepared for a 'laugh riot'," Pinkie said waggling her eyebrows. There were a few giggles from the group, but the police woman just scowled.

"And they crack jokes. I just can't wait to take them off your hands," she said caustically.

"Hey, don't give me that, Doris," Officer Perkins complained. "This bunch is just a group of out-of-towners looking to find Harry Dresden. I remembered you guys hiring him, and figured you could give them a hand."

Doris snorted. "We can't give that information out to the public. But if they want to beard Sergeant Murphy in her den, that's their own business."

"Shouldn't that be Lieutenant Murphy?" Rarity asked. They had all read Dresden's letters and heard a bit about his human friends, but Twilight realized with a start that Rarity was the only one that had caught that small detail. Were they different people? After all, Dresden had never mentioned 'Special Investigations' in any his of letters.

"Not anymore," Doris said. "A shame, too. _She_ knew how to get things done. Not that Stallings is a bad cop, but she could lead a squad into Hell and out the other side."

Everyone blinked at her, uncertain how to respond. "And whereabouts can we find her?" Applejack finally asked.

"Second door to the right. She'll be at her desk in the bull pen. She's blond and shorter than your friend with the technicolor hair – you can't miss her."

"And that's my cue to leave," Officer Perkins said. "It was nice meeting all of you. I hope I never see you again." For a moment everyone stared at him in shock. Twilight thought she saw tears welling at the edges of Pinkie's eyes. Officer Perkins just chuckled. "Because I'm only likely to if you get in trouble with the law." He threw a wave their way and left quickly, giving them no time to respond.

"Another joke. Someone must have slipped something into the coffee," Doris muttered before turning back to her flat typewriter and the strange box it was connected to. The box's screen suddenly turned bright blue; little white letters scrolled past with an ease of motion that puzzled and intrigued Twilight. Doris was not quite so happy with this turn of events. She began to curse with a quiet fervor the girls rarely heard from an older woman. Sure, Granny Smith could get energetic in her complaints, but she never used _that_ kind of language where other ponies could hear her.

By unspoken agreement everyone retreated to the hallway past the desk, looking for the second door on the right. The 'bull pen' just looked like a bunch of desks. Some of them were neat, some were messy. Most were decorated with framed pictures and little flags or banners. Whatever the 'Chicago Cubs' were, quite a few of the police officers seemed to like them.

Doris had at least been correct about one thing: it was easy to pick out Sergeant Murphy. Out of twenty or so desks, only six were occupied, and Sergeant Murphy was the only woman among them. She had a similar build to Dash's human body, though she looked a bit older. She was using another flat typewriter and growling at a similar box. Her back was to them, but evidently she heard them approach because she muttered, "Be with you in a second, I just need to get this report formatted."

"That's okay. We can wait," Twilight said.

Sergeant Murphy stopped and spun her chair around. She grunted in mild surprise as she scanned them with a judgemental eye. She grunted again, differently this time, and stood up. One hand strayed back to the edge of her belt, but she extended the other one in greeting. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sergeant Murphy. You are?"

Twilight took her hand and shook it. The pressure from Sergeant Murphy's grip was impressive; she was certainly strong for her size. As the greeting ended, Twilight shot a glance at her friends and nodded. It was time to put some of their preparations to work. "I'm Twilight," she began, careful to leave 'Sparkle' off.

"You can call me AJ," Applejack volunteered.

"Dash."

"My name is Pinkie Pie!"

"S-shy."

"Lady Diamond, if you please."

"Emperor Drakon Magnus the Third," Spike declared proudly.

The group fell into sudden and awkward silence. Twilight glared at Spike until he dropped his eyes and turned red.

"Lance," he muttered sulkily.

Murphy just nodded, as though unsurprised with their answers. "It would be my _great honor_ to help. What can I do for you?" Her tone was guarded, but strangely loud. Still, she did seem to fit what little Dresden's letters had mentioned about her.

"We're looking for Harry Dresden, and we were told you could help us."

Murphy nodded. "I could." She did not take her seat again, nor did she offer anyone a seat. The 'bull pen' was almost deserted, but the few humans there all watched the group. And Twilight wasn't certain she liked the look in their eyes.

"Well… will you?" Rarity asked.

"Why do you want him?" Murphy asked. Her voice was flat, almost detached, but her eyes were cold. There was something behind those eyes that was harder than steel, and even though Twilight was a full foot taller than the human woman, she felt herself taking a step backwards in fear.

Applejack was a little more difficult to impress. "I don't see as it's any of your business, but we're friends of his."

Murphy's body abruptly tensed for action. "That's funny. I've know him for a few years, and he's never mentioned any of you."

"Okay, I'm fed up with this," Dash announced, stomping forward. "Either you tell us–"

She never got to finish her statement. As one, every human in the room drew out a small metal object and pointed it at the group. They way they held them told Twilight that they were weapons, and she vaguely remembered Dresden holding something similar when he was about to kill Trixie. Apparently, Twilight wasn't the only one to make that connection, because everyone else froze in place too.

Sergeant Murphy had out a similar weapon of her own, and she nodded in satisfaction. "Most of these are loaded with blessed, steel-jacketed rounds. Officer Dawson's shotgun is full of rock salt, also blessed. I have someone waiting by the fire alarm set to trigger the sprinkler system and douse all of you in running water, and one of my men has already sent out a message with all of your descriptions. Even if you manage to kill all of us, the entire police force of Chicago will hunt you down." She snorted, and eyes turned harder still. "I might not run this department anymore, but don't think for a second that means we can't deal with non-human 'visitors'. Now, I'm going to ask again. _Why_ are you looking for Harry Dresden?"

A trickle of sweat ran down the back of Twilight's neck. She wasn't certain just what those weapons would do, but from the hard certainty in the faces of all the humans present she doubted it was anything pleasant. She covertly begin to gather her power, but aside from a shield spell, she didn't know what she could do that wouldn't make the situation worse. Dresden's world seemed to be just as dangerous as he had promised, even if it lay beneath a normal surface, and this city's defenders weren't exactly slouches when it came to defending.

"We weren't lying," Twilight said slowly. "We really are Dresden's friends. He wasn't supposed to mention us, and I'm glad that he kept that promise. He did tell us about you though. He said you helped him save his new apprentice from…" Twilight's mind raced, it had been such a funny name, "Arctic Tor?"

Sergeant Murphy hesitated, but she didn't lower her weapon. "Arctis Tor. And you still haven't answered my question. I know how some of you types like threes, so I'll ask again: even if you are his friends, why are you looking for him?"

"Because we're on vacation!" Pinkie announced proudly. Thankfully, she stayed in place even though she seemed ready to bounce off the walls. "He's always so busy he can't visit us anymore, so we decided to visit him!"

Sergeant Murphy's eyes slowly widened. "Wait a minute. When did he visit you last?"

Twilight thought for a second, thinking through Dresden's references to the passage of time and the current season. "About two and a half years ago, he spent a week with us. The first time he visited was almost a year before that."

Two or three chuckles escaped Sergeant Murphy. "So _these_ are your 'bigfoots'?" she murmured. Then she was all business again. "I hope you aren't insulted by the precautions, but we're going to need to bring Dresden in to confirm your identities."

Everyone traded glances. "That's kinda what we wanted to start with," Applejack said.

"Yes, I daresay we would all be quite pleased with that turn of events," Rarity added.

"One thing I don't get," Pinkie said, scratching her head with a curious expression. "What makes you think we aren't humans? I, personally, am one of the humanest humans that ever humaned."

Sergeant Murphy snorted again. "Aside from comments like that? The hair and eyes are good tip-offs, but those could be mistaken for dye-jobs and special contacts. Your teenaged friend is the biggest proof. Humans don't have slit pupils, enlarged canines, or claw-like nails."

Twilight felt another trickle of cold sweat. "He's just got a … um … gland condition. I don't know why you'd think we are anything other than perfectly ordinary, non-magical humans."

"I didn't mention anything about magic," Sergeant Murphy stated flatly. "However, the fact that _you_ did certainly suggests something. Also, it doesn't help that most of you are wearing what look like handmade dresses, in September, with no underwear." She gestured to their chests for some reason, and a few of the human officers chuckled or coughed.

Rarity smirked and Twilight felt like joining her in the expression. Another one of their preparations was about to pay off. It had been difficult to talk the rest of the girls into it, but this just proved once and for all that Twilight had known what she was doing in planning this trip. "I think you'll find that you are quite wrong in that regard. Everyone? Show her."

With that, everyone lifted their dress or dropped their pants to reveal a pair of black boxers dotted with yellow smiley faces. Rarity had spent days making sure she had gotten each of them exactly right, and Twilight couldn't help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction at her excellent grasp of human culture.

Sergeant Murphy laughed so hard, she almost fell down.

…

The trail stopped at a tiny cave. There were seven scents, one of which smelled similar to a hatchling, yet at the same time very different. They would have been little more than a snack, but with nothing else, even that pitiful amount would have been welcome.

The dragon rumbled in dissatisfaction. Such trails always ended without prey. It was the way of this cruel place. However, with an active and aware mind, the trail was much more than a momentary disappointment.

If the trail ended here, it had to be a way out. A tiny crack in this vast prison.

'Tiny' being the important word. The glorious form that had consumed cities and struck fear into the mightiest of creatures would never fit through. To give up that form would be to lose it forever, or at least until enough power could be gathered to recreate it.

The first time had taken centuries, and that was without the fear of discovery. Whatever else, a new life would mean hiding from those foolish, jealous creatures that had built this prison. Still, the only other option was remaining here, slowly losing sanity to unquenched hunger.

In that light, the decision was easy.

Even at a much reduced size, the cave was not terribly impressive. It was shallow and bland in appearance. Its only saving grace was the delicious weakness of the veil between worlds. Unfortunately, it was not weak enough to simply break through. Still, that hardly mattered. The veil was weak enough that it would open naturally for a few precious seconds if one waited long enough.

Ouroboros, the Infinite Serpent, the Devourer of Worlds, the Eldest and Greatest of Dragons, sat and waited patiently.

Time would not be a problem.


	3. Chapter 2

The Dresden Fillies: Great Power

Written by: psychicscubadiver

Edited by: SilentCarto

Proofreader: Coandco

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, that is Jim Butcher and Hasbro, respectively. This is a fanfiction only. This story takes place between Seasons Two and Three in MLP and between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files.

Chapter Two

The man sitting across from me fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He had the look of middle-management normalcy down pat, and I could tell that my office wasn't what he had expected. It could have been the general shabbiness – some of the stains were probably older than I was – or maybe it was my matter-of-fact approach to the mystical. One table was occupied with pamphlets I'd written myself like 'Magic in a Modern World' and 'Learning to Cope with the Supernatural'.

Or maybe it was me. I'd spent last evening teaching Molly the delicate art of potion making, and I knew my eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. She had apologized repeatedly, but 'sorry' doesn't put out fires or fix acid damage.

When he didn't leave after grimacing, _that_ was when I knew things were bad. Generally, I get three kinds of people in this office. Most often I see skeptics looking to hire me for results without wanting to believe in how I get them. Next most common are the 'true believers' and other new age mystics. They're the ones that believe in pyramid power and healing crystals. Those actually work, ironically, but only in the hands of people who actually know what they're doing. Both groups are pretty easy to deal with. I get the job done for the skeptics and don't rub their faces in my methods. For the true believers I check for magical potential and give them some advice. Typically it isn't want they want to hear, but it is what they _need_. Once in a blue moon, they even listen to it.

The third kind of people I see are the desperate. They aren't looking for magic. They're looking for a miracle.

This man's face was drawn, and he had lines around his eyes that had nothing to do with age. He probably looked good for a middle-aged man most of the time, but this was one of the worst days of his life.

For me, it was just Tuesday.

"Coffee?"

He started at my offer then shook his head. He hadn't said a word since entering, but I had the feeling he was just working up to it.

"So how can I help you, Mister…?"

"Belfast. It's my son. He…" Mr. Belfast stopped and fell quiet again.

"Discovered he has magic powers, and wants to know where his letter to Hogwarts is?"

He blinked at me for a moment until the meaning of my words sank in. Mr. Belfast gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "Not exactly. He's gone missing. I approached Nicholas Christian, but he was busy with another case and recommended you." Back when I was still earning my PI license, I'd worked for Nick Christian; he specialized in missing kid cases. Sometimes we referred work to each other when we were busy or if it played to the other's strengths. Nick had sent me more than one client involved in the spooky side of things.

I nodded, getting out a pen and small notebook. I could probably commit all of the important details to memory, but it never hurt to be careful. And it made me look more professional. "How old is your son?"

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Twenty-two."

I raised an eyebrow at that. It was a bit older than I had been expecting. "When did you last see him?"

"A week and a half ago. Ever since he started college he hasn't been home much, but I always treated him to dinner on Saturday. When he didn't show this past weekend, that's when I first knew he was missing."

I grunted mildly. "Have you checked his apartment?"

"Yes, and he wasn't there. I shrugged off him missing dinner and his phone going straight to voicemail, because he's been under a lot of stress lately. But when he didn't answer the next two days, I got worried. I've got one of his spare keys, so I tried checking up on him two days ago. He wasn't home." His hands were shaking slightly.

"He was under a lot of stress?" I asked. Mr. Belfast nodded. "Why?"

At that he grimaced. "Sean, he… always wanted to write music and be part of a band. I told him that he'd better have a back-up plan in case music didn't plan out for him, but when he went to college he chose Music Theory and Composition as his major. I told him that I wouldn't pay for him to get a useless degree, and we had a… falling out. His mother paid for part of the first semester, but mostly he took out student loans. We patched things up, but only so long as we didn't discuss his future." Mr. Belfast ran a hand through his hair, and squeezed his eyes shut. Yeah, it's funny how important some things can seem until something terrible happens. I hated to prod him for more, but if I was going to take this job I needed all the info I could get.

"Why does that translate into being stressed recently?"

"Because he finally figured out that he isn't going to be a rock star. He's in his senior year with a degree that isn't going to get him a job, and he's up to eyes in debt. He's too proud to ask me for help after the fights we've had. One detective down at the police station told me he probably ran to get out of all his student debt. He thought Sean left to live with his mother in California."

"But you don't think so," I said, reading between the lines. "Why?"

My client nodded. "There was too much in his apartment. Loose money, clothing, even his bass and songwriting notebooks. He never would have left those behind. Not willingly. I just…" He stopped, and I let him collect himself.

"I'm just afraid that he got himself involved in something he shouldn't have to earn the money he needed. He mentioned that he was getting a job the last time we had dinner, but he didn't say what. I didn't want another fight so I didn't ask more. Now I wish I had."

I gave him a moment of silence, before clearing my throat and going back to my questions. "Your son goes to the University of Chicago?"

Mr. Belfast nodded.

"Could you name some of his friends? Just whoever he was closest to."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I don't know who he spends his time with these days. He was in a band called… Heir of the Dog, I think. They were punk or hard rock or metal, I don't really know what exactly they were. Sean and the band leader disagreed about something and he quit a couple of months ago."

I nodded. "That's about all I need. If you want to hire me, my fee is fifty dollars an hour plus expenses. I can't promise you that I'll find your son, but I can promise my best efforts. And if I can't find him, I'll let you know when and where the trail went cold," I said, tucking away my notebook and leaning forward. It's difficult to look someone in the face without meeting their eyes, but after the first couple of accidental Soulgazes, I managed to pick up the trick.

We sat for a moment as Mr. Belfast pretended to make up his mind. Then he pulled out a white envelope and handed it to me. "That's a thousand dollar retainer. I'll expect a full case report whenever you're done, or a weekly report if it takes that long."

I nodded and proved myself a wizard by making the envelope disappear. Fast. For once I wasn't behind on the rent, but you never know when fickle fortune will turn on you. "I'll need some things to investigate properly."

He straightened himself up, becoming more business-like. "Name them."

"First, I'll need a picture of your son, the more recent the better. On the back please list any nicknames or pseudonyms he might go by and the address of his apartment. Also, put down a phone number where I can reliably reach you."

He chuckled hollowly. "You don't use an owl?"

"My last one got eaten by a dragon," I replied with a perfectly straight face.

He paused, uncertain whether I was joking or not. I didn't so much as blink, and he looked away, obviously uncomfortable. People might not admit magic is real, but deep down we've all got that quiet fear of the supernatural inside us. Still, I had to give Mr. Belfast his due. He pulled a photo out of his wallet and started jotting down all the pertinent info. I nodded in approval. "One last thing. I'll need a key to his apartment and your permission to search it. Has anyone other than you been there since he disappeared?"

"Not to my knowledge, no," he said, pulling out a ring of keys and working one of them off. His expression turned sour. "From what I encountered at the police office, I don't think they even bothered to investigate. They certainly never requested a key."

I frowned. That was a bit odd. It was one thing for the police not to put too much stock into a missing person case when they had plenty of reason to run, but not even a cursory glance at the apartment? It was possible that the detective was lazy, or just didn't have the time to spare. Still, if there was a sinister motive involved it wasn't impossible to buy off an investigation. There hadn't been an organization built that was immune to bribery, the Chicago PD included. The real question was: if that was the case, what had the kid done to get on the bad side of somebody with that kind of pull?

I shook my head. I couldn't let my imagination run wild. Sure that was possible, but that didn't mean it was likely. Still…

"Do you have the name or badge number of the detective you spoke to?" I asked.

Mr. Belfast frowned in thought. "I don't recall it off hand, but he gave me one of his cards. It should be at home somewhere. I'll look for it tonight and give you a call tomorrow."

I nodded and arose, extending my hand. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Belfast. I'll do my best to find your son."

Several emotions crossed his face, too quickly to pin down and define, but he settled on weary hope. "Thank you, Mr. Dresden. Don't hesitate to call me. Day or night, I'll pick up."

He left my office the weight of the world on his shoulders. I waited a moment then picked up my telephone. It's a last century model made of thick, cheap plastic. Hell, I'm lucky it wasn't a rotary. Being a wizard meant that modern tech got fried just by being near me. My original VW Bug, the Blue Beetle, is mucho sexy, but I don't drive it to make a statement. I drive it because anything newer won't survive more than a few days with me behind the wheel.

I didn't bother with my rolodex for this one. I'd memorized the morgue's phone number a couple of years ago. The phone rang a couple times before somebody picked up. "Chicago City Forensic Institute, Waldo Butters speaking."

Yes, that really was his name. I don't know what injustice he had inflicted upon his parents at birth, but they had gotten full revenge in naming him.

"Hey, Butters. It's Harry."

There was half a second of silence on the other end. Then he replied, his voice tense. "Sorry, I can hardly make out what you're saying, Detective. The connection must be bad. I'll switch to another line and call you back."

The phone went dead with a click. I stared at it for a second, then hung up.

About a minute later my phone rang, and I picked it up. "Sorry, Harry," Butters said. "Dr. Brioche was in the room, and you're still persona non grata around here."

"What crawled up your boss's ass this time? You being too honest at work again?" Butters had been doubly unfortunate a few years ago. Not only had he been given the task of examining the bodies left behind from Bianca St. Claire's attempt to kill me, but he also had an open mind and enough courage to declare the remains 'humanoid but not human'. He had been right – those skeletons were all that was left of several Red Court vampires after I burned down their mansion – but his bosses hadn't been happy to see that in an official report. The differences between their corpses and a normal human skeleton were attributed to warping from the intense heat. Butters got suspended for three months and put under psych evaluation. He kept his job, but only by the skin of his teeth. And not thanks to any mercy on the part of Dr. Brioche.

He chuckled. "Not by half. I learned my lesson there. He's just making his continued displeasure with me known. What did you call for?"

"I'm on a missing person case, and I wanted to see if you'd gotten any John Does in the past week and a half." I hoped Sean Belfast wasn't among the stiffs, but a quick check there would prevent hours of wasted detective time if he was.

"That is an entirely incorrect term in this enlightened age," Butters replied sardonically. "If you mean 'unidentified males', we've only got a couple. Does an elderly caucasian or a thirty-something african american fit your profile?"

"Nope. Looks like I need to do some actual work, then."

"I'd say it wouldn't kill you, but I've seen the kind of work you do. How's the hand?"

I grimaced and was glad he couldn't see the expression over the phone. "Slowly getting better. I'm still not sold on this whole 'learning to play the guitar' rehab, though."

He let out out a small huff of breath, and I could imagine the look of mild indignation Butters was wearing. "You need to reacquire dexterity in that hand somehow. Your amazing wizard healing might let your muscle and skin grow back, but without proper exercise that hand will always be stiff and unresponsive. I'm not asking you to open at a rock concert; just keep working on the basics."

"Fine. You're the doctor," I said dutifully.

"Coroner," he corrected. "Although, you'd hardly know it these days. Anyway, I have to get back to work. See you later."

"See ya," I said, and hung up. The good news was that Sean wasn't in the morgue. The bad news was that I needed to figure out where he was. As a wizard, I had a bit of a leg up on your average PI there. But to form a tracking spell, I needed something connected to the target. So I gathered my gear, slipped a gun into one of my duster's larger pockets, and grabbed the key Mr. Belfast had left. The address wasn't too far from the University of Chicago, and I knew the area.

A murmured phrase brought my staff to my hand, and I locked up my office. It was time to go poking around and see what turned up.

…

Pulling into the parking lot of Sean's apartment complex gave me a good idea of how much debt he might be in.

It was one of those newer apartment complexes; the fancy ones that come with all the bells and whistles. Definitely on the higher end of student living. Not a gated community, but still a far cry from the dorms. Living here couldn't have been on the cheap side, and small-time bands aren't known for raking in the cash. Between paying for college and this place Sean must have borrowed some serious money. No wonder the police thought he ran.

I breezed inside like I belonged there. I got a couple of strange looks, but nobody showed any real interest.. It's amazing how far a confident stride will take you. Sean's door had a printed note on it informing him that trash pickup had been moved to Thursday. I took it down and tried the key.

Anyone who's read Dracula knows that vampires can't enter a home without permission, but most people don't realize that applies to just about all manner of supernatural creatures, and even wizards to an extent. Magic comes from life and one of the most fundamental needs of life is shelter. Living in a single place gives it symbolic importance, and therefore the supernatural power commonly referred to as a threshold. The more people, the tighter their bonds, and the longer they live in a place, the stronger that threshold becomes.

Karrin Murphy had inherited her house from her grandmother, and at least two generations of Murphys had grow up in that house. Her threshold was badass enough to act like a force field against all kinds of supernatural nasties. Pure spirits could never get in, and even physical creatures like a vampire would be all but helpless if they forced their way through. Wizards and other gifted humans could cross through, but we'd leave most, if not all, of our power at the door. Without an invitation, I can't so much as make sparks behind a powerful enough threshold.

Normally, Sean being gone would be a problem, because the invitation needed to come from somebody that lived there. I wasn't too worried in this case. Even if he'd lived here for the past three years, a single person in a brand new building wouldn't produce enough of a threshold to slow me down. Only a faint sense of static washed across me as I entered the apartment. I'd called that one right.

My first instinct was that the room had been tossed, but then I took a second look. The mess was just typical teenager fare. Empty bottles and cans, unwashed plates, dirty clothing on the floor and other various bits and pieces. Sheesh. Even before I got my fancy faerie cleaning service (one of the only perks from a nightmarish job a few years ago) I'd never been a slob like this. I stepped carefully into the room.

I strained my magically attuned senses, but felt nothing significant. Not only was the kid vanilla, but nothing supernatural had come stomping in here. Time for some good old-fashioned detective work, then. I took note of the multiple pizza boxes around the garbage can. All of them were from pretty high end pizzerias, no Pizza 'Spress or frozen deals. Likewise, the bottles were all good beer, either craft or high-end domestic. Sean was not a fan of Bud Light, it seemed. The clothing scattered on the floor was pretty high quality, most of it brand name. Good food, good beer and good clothes aren't cheap. Between this and his choice of living arrangements, Sean seemed to like his luxuries without much thought to cost. Assuming he didn't just develop the habit in college, Mr. Belfast might be a little higher on the corporate ladder than 'middle management'.

I glanced into the kitchen where more dirty dishes occupied the counter and half of the sink. A couple of practically illegible notes were stuck to the fridge. Nothing important, it seemed, but I'd take another look at those notes if I didn't find anything to give me a lead elsewhere. The hallway back to the bedroom was mostly clear, and I moved back that way. I kept my staff with me. Sure, I hadn't sensed anything, but that didn't mean there was nothing here. I'd rather be paranoid than get caught in a clever ambush.

The bedroom was neater than the living room, surprisingly. The walls were covered in posters of bands. Some of them I'd heard of, like Nine Inch Nails and Black Sabbath. Most of them were unfamiliar, but leather clothing, tattoos, and enough piercings to let them find magnetic north seemed to be the norm. There was a loaded bookcase in one corner full of horror novels, books on local folklore, and mythology collections. The bed was unmade, but the sheets looked clean, at least. Most of the mess on the floor was clothing with a few scattered papers thrown in. A bass sat in the corner on a stand with an amp next to it. The desk was occupied by a new-looking laptop, thankfully turned off, and several beat-up notebooks. I picked up the top one and flipped through it.

For a songwriter, there was surprisingly little music notation. Mostly, it was just lyrics. The handwriting here wasn't that great either, but I managed to puzzle most of it out. There were a few anti-authority songs, some love songs – for a given value of love anyway – but Sean seemed to focus a lot on the supernatural. Especially the darker end of the supernatural.

My stomach twisted a little. Everybody knows about vampires and faeries, despite the various misinformation out there about them, but some creatures have managed to avoid or stop any kind of widespread fame like that. They prefer to work in the shadows and don't take kindly to anyone who tries to get out the word about them. Manticores, Ahuizotls, Wendigos and plenty of other creatures are happier to be remembered only in legends, if at all.

I took another look at his bookshelf, and some of his sources surprised me. He actually had a fair number of accurate books. One of them outlined the differences between the three courts of vampires. It didn't get into the serious details or naming names, but that was still better than assuming they _all_ hated garlic. He had worked a lot of real information into some of these songs, apparently under the belief that he was just being faithful to the original legends. I doubted most of these creatures would have heard him, but the songs about Wendigos had me worried. They were native to these parts, and liked to walk among humans. It wasn't too hard to imagine one of them hunting at a bar or club where his band played and deciding 'he knows too much'.

Of course, all I was doing right now was imagining. There's no sense getting too caught up in a single possibility, especially when you don't even have any evidence for it. All the same, I gathered together his notebooks and tossed them in a nearby backpack. The laptop I approached cautiously, like petting a dog I expect to bite me. There could be very important info on there, which one of my more tech savvy friends could retrieve. Of course, that was assuming I didn't fry the thing just by touching it. Thinking better of the idea, I grabbed a towel and picked up the computer with that, putting it in the backpack too. Nothing exploded or caught on fire when I unplugged it and stuffed the cord in after, so I was willing to call that a victory. There was no hairbrush in evidence, either here or in the bathroom, but his pillow was thick with loose hairs. I grabbed a handful and hoped that they weren't too old. Then I saw the time and cursed.

Molly would be getting out of school right about now, and I'd promised to pick her up and give her another lesson in magic today. Molly was my new apprentice, and her training was one of my top priorities these days. She had a gift for sensitive, subtle magic, great for casting illusions and creating veils. Unfortunately, it was also great for invading minds and twisting thoughts. A few months ago, she used mental magic on two of her friends to free them from their drug addictions. One of them was in counseling and doing okay. The other went stark raving mad and might never recover. There's a reason why the Laws of Magic forbid delving into minds and why ignorance of the law is no excuse.

Molly hadn't just hurt her friends, she'd also opened up a dangerous part of herself that was okay with altering the minds of others to suit what she wanted. Sure, it was under the best of intentions, but that's a real slippery slope, and I've seen what can happen to those who go down it. I intervened and staked my life on rehabilitating her. Right now she was under the Doom of Damocles, a fancy title for wizard probation. The next time she broke a Law, both of us would be executed without trial.

I scowled at the clock and grumbled. I hadn't finished canvassing the apartment for clues. The hairs should let me track Sean, and I could always come back later. Still, it rankled that I needed to leave before I was done. I grabbed the backpack, careful to hold it well away from me in case the laptop changed its mind about exploding. Though, given that physical proximity was what caused me to hex things involuntarily in the first place, it was probably safer for the both of us. I locked up behind me.

I kept an eye out for anyone watching me or the apartment, but I was disappointed. Nobody aside from a couple college students were around and they only gave me a passing glance. Still, the case was young. One of the nice things about my line of work is that I can usually tell when I'm on the right track. When people – or, more typically, monsters – start trying to kill me, I know I'm getting somewhere.

…

I didn't arrive at Molly's school until almost forty-five minutes after it let out. As it turned out, though, I was still early. She'd manage to get herself a detention today and still had another thirty minutes until she was released. That was annoying, but while waiting I pulled out a few of Sean's notebooks and started working my way through them on the concrete steps of the school. The lyrics were more of the same, though the list of creatures that might have wanted Sean gone got longer and longer. It might have been easier to find something he hadn't thrown in there. Realistically, most of these wouldn't have been turned into full songs, but I couldn't know which of them had. 'The Wendigo's Hunger' looked like a solid candidate, given that it had four versions and full musical notation on the final one. I really needed to track down his band. If these songs were behind his disappearance then all of them could be in danger.

Eventually, Molly appeared at the door of the school. Despite being only seventeen, Molly was built like the proverbial brick house. She was tall for a woman, but carried enough curves to make it look good. I'd never say that where she could hear it – for more than one reason – but it was true, and she knew it. The wild pink and blue hair and multiple facial piercings detracted from it a bit in my opinion, but I'm a traditionalist at heart. If my apartment came with a lawn, I'd probably be yelling at kids to get off it.

No matter how Molly looked, she'd had issues with going back to school. Learning to control your temper is one of the most vital lessons in learning to control your magic. If I lashed out with magic every time I got angry, I'd have a bigger body count than Ted Bundy. And I'd be just as evil. It's all too easy for righteous anger to give way to blind wrath. When you've seen some of the things I've seen, the anger is more than justified, but if you let it control you, you're no better than the things you fight. The Abyss is real and playing with magic is a fast way to stare too long.

And that was the lesson I needed to teach Molly. I gave her one of my better glares and she flinched. "Another detention?" I asked, my tone less than cordial.

"This was different!" she said, raising her hands in protest. I cocked an eyebrow and she flushed slightly. "This was just for getting five tardies. Not for behavior."

I sighed and kneaded my forehead. "The school year isn't even a month old, and you've already got five tardies on top of the first detention?" Part of my conditions for teaching her was that she complete school. Anyone who didn't have the patience and intelligence to earn a high school diploma had no business mucking around with phenomenal cosmic power. I had extenuating circumstances for why I missed out on mine, but I still managed a GED.

"Well, I'm trying to do better. It's not easy fitting back in," she said in a minor huff.

"Do or do not," I commanded in a muppety voice. "There is no try." She rolled her eyes at that but didn't say anything. "C'mon, we're taking a field trip. Where's the nearest park from here?"

Molly looked at me quizzically, but she'd learned by now that I didn't share anything until I was ready. She gave me directions as we walked to the car. It wasn't late enough for rush hour to start, but it was getting there.

Once we reached the park, I grabbed the hairs out of the backpack, careful not to directly touch the computer. I gave Molly a 'follow me' gesture and started walking. It wasn't a large park, only about half a city block, but there were enough trees and shrubs to give us a little bit of cover. I was glad for that. For some reason, people get all twitchy when you start drawing pentagrams in public parks.

"Congratulations," I told Molly, brandishing the hairs I had collected from Sean's apartment. "You just beat up a bad guy and even managed to snag some of his hairs in the process. Too bad he got away, blowing up your car in the process. Using only what you've got on you, show me how you would track him." I held up a hand to forestall any protest. "You don't need to actually cast the spells, but assuming you could how would you do this?"

She thought for a moment. "Can I get my backpack?"

I snorted. "Do you have it on you?"

"That's not fair! You didn't tell me I'd need anything."

"Of course it isn't fair," I replied, and she seemed surprised that I would admit it. "But the bad guys don't play fair. Hell, most of the good guys don't either. You need to learn to keep the tools of the trade at hand, because you have no way of knowing when you'll need them most."

Molly scowled, but didn't say anything. She examined her surroundings and traced out a circle in the dirt using a large stick. Then she took out one of her shoelaces, and made a pendulum by tying one end around a small rock. She looked nervous, but forced confidence into her voice. "I've got a circle and a basic pendulum as a focus. I'd tie the hairs I got from the 'bad guy' on this and then cast a tracking spell."

I nodded in approval. "Not bad, but a necklace or locket would work better. Start wearing one, but make sure it's on a thin chain so you can't be choked with it. For now, re-lace your shoe while I perform the spell." I pulled out the scarred silver pentacle I had inherited from my mother and tied three of Sean's hairs to it. The spell was one I'd done a thousand times, just forming a quick link between two things that were once connected, but now were apart.

I finished the spell and broke the circle by smudging the line in the dirt. No longer constrained by the barrier I had erected with my will, the spell spread out into the wide world and… fizzled.

If the link had been successfully made my pentacle would have swung in the direction of wherever Sean currently was. Instead it hung there, fully subject to gravity. "So the spell failed. What are some possible reasons for that? Even if a spell like this doesn't work that should still tell you something."

Molly chewed that over for a second. "He could be in the Nevernever."

"Good," I said, nodding. "Or?"

"Or behind some wards, or a long way out on Lake Michigan." Molly paused and mulled over possibilities. "If he knew you took it and had a big enough head start, he could have shaved himself bald and done some cleansing ritual. He could be out of range if the spell wasn't big enough. If somebody else got to him, he could be dead." I hoped that wasn't the reason my spell had failed to find Sean, but she was right. It was a possibility.

"Those are all correct, but there's one that you're forgetting." I paused a second as she searched your mind, trying to figure what she had missed. I chuckled. "I could have goofed up the spell. We aren't perfect, padawan. Acting otherwise is the best way to leave yourself blind. Assuming I did the spell right there are a few ways to eliminate those possibilities. I can duck into the Nevernever and cast the spell there. Back here on Earth, I can try a spell with greater range to see if that's the problem. If he's dead or behind wards, I can't find where he currently is, but with a starting point I could use a spell that lets me follow his trail. Even if all that fails, we've got other options, depending on how badly we want to know and how quickly we need the info. But never count out mundane methods. A human witness and a knowledge spirit you summoned up might tell you the same thing, but one of them is going to charge you a lot harder."

She nodded, but I still don't think she got it entirely. When you first start using magic it seems like it's the answer to all life's problem. I love magic, but that doesn't mean it's a one-stop shop for solutions. Good old vanilla humans keep improving things all the time, and it was no accident that I carried a gun in addition to my staff. The sun was setting in the distance and I scowled at it. "You got any homework due at school tomorrow?"

"Nothing I can't put off," Molly replied flippantly. I raised an eyebrow and she grinned. "No, I've got some stuff due Thursday but tomorrow is clear."

"Okay, we'll continue the lesson back at the apartment. No more potions this time. The lab still hasn't recovered from your last foray into the alchemic arts. Instead, we're going to work on tracking a little more. It's time I showed you Little Chicago." She grinned eagerly, like a kid that's just been promised candy, before flushing and trying to cover up her excitement. I smiled, but didn't let her see. She may have made some mistakes, but Molly was a good kid. We piled into the car and set off. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that it had been a while since lunch, and dinner would be more than welcome. I was debating with myself about stopping by Burger King on the way when I heard someone calling my full name accompanied by a sudden pressure on my mystic senses.

I hit the brakes, stopping short of a yellow light I could have caught, and twisted around, scanning the street.

"Harry?" Molly said.

Everything looked normal. People walked by just doing their regular business. The guy in the car behind me was glaring at me for stopping short, but he was the only one with eyes on me. I put together the clues, and turned back to watch the road my stomach sinking. I was about ninety percent sure that I'd just felt somebody using my name. My True Name.

That was not good.

There are not enough adjectives in the English language to describe how very not good that was.

Anyone that had my True Name had a direct route to me, no defenses or cover possible. I needed to get home and behind my wards as fast as possible. There was no time for Burger King. Not even the drive-through. The light changed and the Blue Beetle puttered off. Maybe Bob knew a way out of this; he was more conversant with the more esoteric rules of magic than I would ever be.

…

"Wow," Bob said after I explained the situation to him. "You're screwed, boss."

I restrained the urge to smash that fragile little skull into powder. I also resisted screaming, which was more difficult. "Thank you, Bob. Anything helpful to add or should I start making out my will?"

He snorted, despite not having a nose. Bob looks like a hokey halloween decoration, seeing as how he lives in a skull, and the eyes glow orange when he's awake. He's actually a spirit of air and intellect, bound to assist wizards in return for their protection. So long as I own the skull, he's loyal to me… mostly.

"Fine, if you're going to be a baby about it." He sighed. "First off, there's no point in raising the heavy duty wards. Anything using your True Name will bypass them. You might try jumping into the Nevernever; nothing here could reach you unless they threw a _lot_ of power into it."

I grimaced, and dismissed it with a wave of my hand. "That's a temporary measure at best, and I'd still have to deal with surviving the Nevernever. I thought that mortal names had an expiration date. The last time I traded any of mine was years ago, and I always made sure the buyers never got all four. Not even if they mixed and matched."

Bob nodded. "Yeah, assuming that time with Chanucy was the last deal, then they should be useless. I dunno, it's possible you just haven't changed enough yet."

"Eh?"

"Change, Harry. It's one of the few advantages you mortals have over everyone else. You're constantly changing in one way or another, while spirits, immortals and everything else stay basically the same. Eventually, you're different enough from your past self that you're essentially a different person. Of course, that slows down as you age, too. A kid's True Name is barely good for a year, but once a wizard hits two hundred or so they barely change at all. You're kinda young to get set in your ways already, but it could happen."

I shook my head. "Too many things have happened. Between what happened to my hand, the events of the Darkhallow, and playing teacher to Molly, I've definitely changed. Even if I hadn't, it doesn't explain where they got all four of my names. I know, I heard all four."

"You are forgetting a rather important possibility, my host," a feminine voice said in a pleasant, conversational tone. I went ramrod straight, took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, _Lasciel_ ," I growled.

A long time ago in a neighborhood pretty close by, I got tricked into picking up a coin that contained one of the Fallen. I buried the coin and sealed it away without accepting its power. For a couple of years I thought that put me in the clear. Then I found out that I'd been imprinted with its shadow, a copy buried in the deepest parts of my mind. The shadow didn't have a hundredth of the original fallen angel's power, but it had enough to tempt me. Hellfire for when I needed my spells to hit harder. Knowledge and advice whenever things looked their bleakest.

She was always polite and pleasant company. All the better for me to rely on her, to trust her, to believe her when she suggested that I should pick up the coin. After all, I could do so much good with that power; with her help I could save everyone who needed me and be ten times the wizard I currently was.

All at the low, low price of one soul.

Lasciel wasn't known as 'The Temptress' for nothing. She had serious game, and if I'd been anyone without exposure to the organization that carried those coins, I might have picked hers up for good already. Unfortunately for her, I'd seen what the Fallen did to their hosts and what kind of people accepted the coins. And as I'd told Lasciel's shadow once before, I would rather drive a spike of rebar through one ear and out the other before becoming anything like her big boss, Nicodemus.

"I apologize," she said, appearing before me in her usual form: a beautiful blond woman in a modest toga. She didn't exist outside of my mind, but her ability to play with my senses was both impressive and terrifying. I had to remind myself she wasn't really there sometimes. "Nonetheless, I feel that you may be worried over nothing. You believe it is impossible that one of your enemies used your Name. As you are still among the living, that appears to be correct. So then it must have been one of your allies."

I rolled my eyes. "Please. I can count the number of people who know my True Name on one hand without using all of my fingers. And all of them know better than to use it like that."

A sparkle of amusement danced in her eyes and she smiled slightly. " _All_ of them? Wasn't there one young… female... who received your Name without an explanation of how to use it wisely?"

My stomach sank as I realized the implication of her words.

I had suspected for a long time that she could dig through my memories, and this confirmed it. Lasciel, or at least her shadow, knew about Equestria. That horrific thought aside, I also understood what she was implying. Twilight, and probably several other ponies, were here on Earth. I said something that should have peeled paint from the walls.

"I am ever at your service, my host," Lasciel said before disappearing.

"What?" Bob asked. As the conversation had taken part in my head he wasn't privy to it. He was smart enough to make guesses though. "Did the shadow help you figure what's going on?"

"Yeah," I bit out, grinding my teeth. "If my guess is right, Twilight is in town. Or somewhere on Earth, at least."

"Ouch. So how much does your favorite unicorn know about human culture and the supernatural world?"

"Not even half as much as she needs to." I started pacing back and forth, thinking out loud. Molly knocked on the door to my lab, but I was busy. "Not now, Molly. Anyway, this is bad. Not as bad as 'the forces of darkness have my True Name,' but still pretty bad. The real question is how I'm going to find her. I've jack worth of squat for a tracking spell, and I have no idea what her disguise looks like."

"Heh," Bob chuckled darkly. "That's assuming she even came as a human. I've got my hopes up for more naked pony girls. Oooooo… but if they were humans, they'd have boobs. Man, now that _is_ a hard decision."

Molly knocked again. I'd left her in the apartment above, because she had no business knowing about Bob at this point in her training. Perversion aside, he had enough magical knowledge to fill any five libraries and very shaky grasp on the whole 'morality' thing we mortals do. The temptation of his 'help' was the last thing she needed.

"Give me five minutes!" I shouted, then turned to Bob. "Cut that shit out, we've got a crisis on our hands. Twilight is too smart to come without a human form. Even if she can't replicate the transformation, she'd at least throw out an illusion. We're flying blind, but the best I can figure is to call Murphy. She might know about any weird sightings or crazy girls in town. Failing that, we round up the Wee Folk and promise them pizza to search for her."

Molly knocked again more urgently. I swept upstairs and threw the trapdoor open. "Whatever it is, make it fast. I need to call Murphy ASAP."

My apprentice just looked at me with the oddest expression on her face. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. She's on the phone and she wants to talk to you." Molly pointed to the phone off its cradle.

I crossed the room in a long pair of steps, and snatched the receiver off the table. "Please tell me Twilight looks like a human." If I was wrong, it wouldn't be the weirdest way I'd ever opened a conversation with her. And if I was right…

For about five seconds Murphy was shocked into silence. Then she recovered. "How the hell did you know what I was calling about?" I smirked to myself and opened my mouth to reply. I didn't get the chance. "And I swear to God if you say 'magic' I will put a bullet in you."

My mouth snapped shut, and I heard a few chuckles in the background that sounded suspiciously like Officer Rawlins. "Sorcery?" I ventured.

Murphy grunted in reply.

I chuckled. "Don't worry. If they're who they claim, they're harmless. Either way I'll be at the precinct as soon as I can."

"And if they aren't who they claim?"

I shrugged even though she couldn't see it. "Then they're eldritch abominations capable of ripping secret information out of my head without my notice, and we're all dead."

"That's why I love working with you, Harry," Murphy groused. "Everything is so neat and simple when you're on the case."

"I aim to please. See you soon." I hung up, and turned to Molly. "Throw on some shoes, Grasshopper. There's somebody we need to pick up."


	4. Chapter 3

Edited by: SilentCarto

Proofreader: Coandco

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, let's find out who actually reads this. The first person to use Harry's full name in a comment can name a minor character. This story takes place between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files.

"And that one?" Spike asked, pointing to another weird doohickey on the police officer's belt.

"That's pepper spray," Officer Rawlins answered patiently.

 _A condiment dispenser? That's clever,_ Spike thought. _I guess it's more convenient than a shaker when you're on the go._

"And that one?"

"That's my radio."

 _Cool, they can listen to music and stuff anywhere._

"And that one?"

"Collapsible baton."

Spike frowned, trying to imagine why Officer Rawlins would need to conduct an orchestra. He just shrugged his shoulders. "You guys are really prepared for anything, aren't you?"

Officer Rawlins chuckled. "You bet, kid."

Things at the police station had calmed down after Sgt. Murphy called Dresden. She didn't quite seem to trust them yet, but at least all of the police had put away their 'guns'. From the way Officer Rawlins described them, guns were sort of like handheld cannons. That was pretty cool, but at the same time, he was glad he hadn't known that back when there was a whole room full of guns pointed at him. Spike had seen the Royal Guards practice with some cannons before, and there wasn't much left of whatever they hit.

"So, if you twist it like _that_ ," Sergeant Murphy said, demonstrating some kind of martial arts move to Dash, Applejack, and Pinkie for some reason, "then you have all the leverage and it doesn't matter how strong the other person is. You have control of their arm, and if they struggle you can dislocate it with a little bit of pressure. Between the pain and losing the use of one arm, that will stop them from fighting without doing more serious damage."

"That's very kind of you to share," Twilight said, her face turning red as Sgt. Murphy held one arm behind her back, "but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I suggested an exchange of knowledge."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have shorted out my computer," Sgt. Murphy mumbled under her breath.

Spike hid a chuckle, fiddling with the sunglasses Officer Rawlin had found for him. Apparently humans didn't have slit pupils, so he was better off covering up his eyes. That was a little annoying, but the sunglasses looked swanky, so he couldn't complain too hard.

Bored, he considered trying to comfort Rarity again. She'd been in a state of shock ever since the police had explained human underwear in a little more detail. She took a slow sip of coffee, her hands still shaking. It was better than her quiet chant of 'Am I still a proper lady?' over and over, so Spike was willing to look on the bright side. He didn't think it was _that_ big a deal, but he still felt sorry for her.

There was a clatter and some fast footsteps coming from the hallway outside. The door swung open, and Dresden strode into the room. "Okay, the wizard has landed," he announced. He was tall as ever, but he didn't tower over Spike like he used to. It felt weird being more than half his height, but Spike didn't mind. Being this tall was pretty fun.

Then Dresden got a better look at the room and all the ponies-turned-human. His confident grin vanished, and his face paled. "Oh, no..." He said in hushed tones.

"Dresden!" Pinkie yelled, bouncing out of her seat and across the room in a single hop. Before Dresden could so much as say a word, she wrapped her arms around him in an inescapable hug. "We missed you so much!" She buried her head in his chest, the highest place it could reach, and began nuzzling him.

Twilight's hands flickered purple and she disappeared from Sgt. Murphy's grasp with a bang. She reappeared next to him and smiled brightly. "It's so nice to see you again, Dresden," she said joining in the hug and nuzzling.

"C'mon, everyp– body!" Pinkie shouted, and the rest of the group joined in. Spike skipped on the nuzzling. Hugging was okay, but nuzzling another guy was just weird. Dash didn't try nuzzling him either, but that could have just been because she wasn't close enough. There wasn't really enough space to go around.

The police watched in near silence, interrupted by a couple of awkward coughs, until the hug was done. "Is there something you want to tell us, Harry?" Sgt. Murphy asked, the expression on her face unreadable.

"I died," Dresden said. "I died, and this is Hell."

The police all laughed, and Dresden turned bright red. Picking up on those subtle clues, Twilight turned to Sgt. Murphy, her face confused. "Did we do something wrong? This isn't like the underwear thing, is it?" Dresden coughed and turned brighter red at that.

"No, no," Officer Rawlins said, still chuckling. "You're just a little more, ah, open with your affection than we are."

"Damnit, Rawlins," Dresden said, his face still flushed. "It's not what you're thinking."

"You sure, Sensei? Because from where I'm standing it certainly looks that way," said a tall girl behind him. She edged past the pony pile and stepped into the room, glaring the whole way. She reminded Spike of Applejack for the most part, but she wasn't as muscular. Or she didn't look it, anyway. Her hair alternated between pink and blue, which made Spike nod in appreciation. Seeing bright colored hair like that was a relief after passing so many humans with subdued manes. Maybe the group wouldn't stick out too bad after all.

"Well, maybe now that you've stopped sulking in the doorway, you'd have a better view. Anyway, girls – and Spike – these are Molly Carpenter and the fine officers of the Special Investigations unit of the Chicago Police. Everyone, these are my, er… foreign friends. Twilight, Pinkie, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow, and Spike."

"Dresden!" Rarity exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest. "How could you reveal our True Names like that?"

"You can't give away another person's True Name," he replied, giving a small snort. "Unless they specifically sold it to you, but that's a whole other can of worms. That's where introductions come from; that way people could exchange names without giving anyone else power over them."

Spike nodded. That made sense. That probably explained why humans seemed to have so many names, too. Some of the police weren't as impressed, and Spike saw one roll his eyes. _Huh. Even though they're prepared to fight magical creatures, it seems like they don't all buy into all the rules of magic._ That was some food for thought.

"Besides," Dresden continued with a glare at Twilight, "you bunch are the last people to be criticizing others for that. I heard what you did, and it scared me half to death. Even 'harmless' Name use feels like a slap in the face."

Twilight's cheeks flushed pink at that, and she looked down. "Well, it was Plan F for a reason."

"That aside, thanks for introducin' us, then," Applejack said, stretching her arm towards Molly for a 'handshake'. "Pleased to meetcha, Molly. Dresden's told us all 'bout you."

Molly snorted and didn't offer her hand in return. "Funny, he never mentioned any of you." Applejack's eyes narrowed slightly, and she let her hand fall back to her side.

"Molly," Dresden warned, his tone disapproving.

"Hardly surprising, since the Princess asked him not to speak of us," Rarity replied. "I'm sorry that precluded you from his confidences, but it _is_ a relief to hear that he kept his word."

Molly sniffed and crossed her arms. Spike frowned. She seemed upset over something, but he couldn't even begin to guess why. He shrugged, not like it mattered. Girls would be girls, whether they were pony or human.

"Okay, speaking of confidences and everything else, what are all of you doing here?" His face suddenly turned hard, and in an instant he went from 'goofy, overwhelmed tall guy' to 'furious battle wizard'. Shadows crossed his face, and his long-fingered hand tightened on the tall staff at his side. When he spoke his voice was threaded with a cold and merciless anger. "If some monster or something is wrecking Eq– your home, then we don't have a minute to lose."

Spike felt a chill go down his back, but at the same time he felt like cheering. _That_ was what an alien-wizard-hero should look like. Comics were fun and all, but an adventure with Dresden was like _living_ a comic book. _Including all the danger and scary bits,_ Spike thought, hiding a shiver.

"No worries there, buddy," Dash said giving him a light punch in the shoulder. "Everything's fine back home. Sure, there were a couple scares – ancient chaos spirit running crazy, shapeshifter invasion, yadda yadda. But we took care of those."

The tension and violence slowly drained out of Dresden and he frowned. "Then… why are all of you here?"

"To visit _you_ , of course!" Pinkie exclaimed, darting back in for another quick hug. "We hadn't seen you in ages, and letters are no replacements for quality time spent together."

"Plus, we figured getting a chance to visit Chicago would be pretty cool," Dash said. "Gotta admit, I'm a little impressed. This place isn't half-bad."

Dresden frown deepened with something that looked like confusion. "And the Princess was just… okay with that?" He rubbed his left hand like he was scratching an unconscious itch.

"Of course," Twilight replied happily. "I sent her a full itinerary, and the risk analysis on the possible dangers of traveling. I was so worried she would turn it down, because of how cautious she is about the Nevernever, but she gave full permission."

Dresden's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "Seriously?" he asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

"Yes," Twilight said, seeming put out at his less than happy response. "I dictated the letter to Spike, and he received a response a bit later. Isn't that right?" She turned to look at Spike. So did Dresden and more than half the room.

"Errr…"

…

"– and given the time variable I have calculated using the span between our sent letters and replies, we should be gone for no longer than two weeks. Please use a Sending if we take longer. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle."

"Twilight Sparkle," Spike echoed a few moments later. His right claw ached and cramped, which wasn't surprising considering the mountain of filled sheets next to him. Twilight had been dictating her plan for their Earth vacation off and on for past two days. Still, Spike was certain the trip would be completely awesome and well worth all this effort.

"Excellent," Twilight said beaming happily. Now, I need to make a copy of every page, just in case it gets lost or damaged, and we'll be good to go. An hour later, hmm… or maybe two hours, to read through each page and make certain each copy spell worked perfectly, we'll finally be ready to send it to Princess Celestia and get her permission. Oh, I'm so excited, Spike!"

"Two hours?" Spike said, the boredom already crushing his spirits. "C'mon, Twilight, we don't need to bother with that. I can guarantee you it won't get lost or damaged."

"Oh?" she replied, arching an eyebrow skeptically. "You guarantee it? You know, you'll be the one re-writing it if you're wrong." His writing claw twinged again at the thought of repeating everything he'd already finished. But what she didn't know was that he had a secret weapon.

Spike casually dusted his knuckles on his chest scales. "You're not the only one who's been practicing, Twilight. I can send a letter to Celestia, wherever she is now. No more 'Canterlot Castle' only."

"That's terrific, Spike!" Twilight said, wrapping him in a big hug. "I'm very proud that you've mastered your Dragonfire to that degree."

"Yep! Before you know, I'll be full-grown dragon! Only… y'know, not the rampaging kind," he finished lamely, still embarrassed over that time his greed got the better of him.

"I know," Twilight sighed, squeezing him tighter for a brief second. "All right, go on and send the letter. I expect she'll take a while to send a reply; though, she may come to a decision before finishing the report." She paused. "I hope so, actually. My analysis on the possible dangers meeting our evil human doppelgangers and how to defeat them is a bit weak. I just don't have enough data there, so I stuck it in close to the end."

Spike freed himself from her grip and rose to his full, dignified height of two-and-a-half feet tall (including his crest). Sheesh, he wasn't an egg-toothed hatchling anymore, even if he was still _technically_ a 'baby dragon'. "No worries, Twilight. Spike is on the job!"

She laughed softly and nuzzled the top of his head. "I'll hold you to that, my number one assistant. In the meantime, I'm going to visit the girls and let them know." She trotted downstairs, and Spike heard the front door of the library open and close.

"Okay," he said, eyeing the towering stack of paper that he just guaranteed Twilight, he could handle. "Time to put up or shut up, Spike." He breathed in slowly, but deeply, stoking his inner fires and preparing to transport the papers. He used to envision Princess Celestia from the many times he'd seen her in the castle, and those surroundings had helped to anchor the image in his mind, but he didn't need that anymore. Instead he focused solely on Princess Celestia: her appearance, the sound of her voice, the downy softness of her wings when she used them in a hug, her loving and motherly personality. When that was complete, he released both fire and magic in a rush that instantly incinerated the papers before him without so much as scorching the desk they sat on.

He paused for a moment, blinking after the rush of power that had left him, but he felt confident. That gout of flames had been good; he could almost sense it soaring faster than the wind to reach Princess Celestia. Spike allowed himself a feeling of deep contentment. He had done well. And as a reward for doing so well, he really deserved a little something. There was still half a tub of choco-strawberry ice cream in the freezer. Plus, he could grab a piece of ice for his still-aching writing claw.

He'd barely gotten to the bottom of the stairs when he felt the sudden upwelling of magic inside of him that indicated a response. With a small belch, and contorted expression, he brought up a sealed scroll.

 _I'm sorry, Spike, but I'm afraid the papers you sent were utterly consumed by a ball of sunfire. Luna and I were sparring at her insistence, and your sending was unfortunately caught in the crossfire. I am, however, very proud that you have mastered your Dragonfire to the point that you can transport items directly to the recipient's side._ – _Yours, Princess Celestia_

For a long moment Spike couldn't feel his heartbeat. What were they doing _sparring_?! They were Princesses, not guards! Why did this have to happen to _him_? And right after he'd told Twilight she didn't need to make a copy. His claw started twinging again at the thought of re-writing so many pages. Not to mention letting Twilight down after she'd trusted him.

Slowly, Spike got himself back under control. This wasn't the end of the world. Most of Twilight's stuff had been … well, junk. All she was really asking for was Celestia's permission to take a couple of weeks off. Princess Celestia didn't _need_ a step-by-step guide to all of Twilight's plans and contingencies. Spike nodded to himself, feeling certain in his decision. He began a new letter.

 _Hey, don't worry. All of that was Twilight's way of asking if she, me, and her friends could have two weeks of vacation time next month._ – _Thanks, Spike._

Spike fidgeted in place, waiting nervously, until a few minutes later he finally got a response.

 _Of course I will give my approval. Both of you have certainly earned the time off and spending time with your friends is a wonderful way to use it. Please let Twilight know that sending reams of information on her travel plans is unnecessary. I trust her judgment and have no doubt she is well prepared. Perhaps even too prepared. Half of the fun of traveling is in being surprised. Should worst come to worst, she will have you there to send me a letter. Do not hesitate if you find yourselves in need, but I suspect you will all simply have a good time together, and I wish you the best._ – _Yours, Princess Celestia_

Letting out a sigh of relief, Spike wiped his brow. "Jeez, that could have been bad," he commented to himself. And hey, panicking gave a guy an appetite. He moved into the kitchen, his mind already on the remains of that ice cream tub.

…

"Of course. I could even show you the Princess's response," Spike said, grinning widely. He felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. Dresden still seemed suspicious, but Twilight was satisfied.

"See? I know this is a bit last minute, but we wanted to surprise you. If you'd like, you and I could work together to rearrange your schedule to fit us in." She grinned, and with a quick flick of her hands summoned three small notebooks from one of their backpacks. "Oh, this will be so much fun!"

"Okay, as fun as it is to see Harry floundering," Sgt. Murphy interrupted, "we're trying to run a police department here. Let's get everyone on the road." She aimed a look at Dresden and mouthed 'Princess?'.

Dresden gave her a look halfway between annoyed and exasperated that said 'not now'. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Good idea, but we've got a problem. There's no way I can move everyone in my VW bug. Not to mention that don't have the cash to drop on getting decent hotel rooms for everyone."

"We aren't staying with you?" Fluttershy asked quietly. Her expression slipped into a small pout. "I wanted to see Mouse again."

"My place isn't nearly big enough. I've only got one bed and a sofa."

"So? If it's a big enough bed we could all share it. Just like we did after that night at Trixie's castle," Pinkie said. There was more silence and awkward coughs from all the humans in the room at that.

Twilight kneaded her forehead with a hand and sighed. "Pinkie, those were considerably different circumstances. Not only did we have to shove two beds together to make enough room, but the only reason we even managed any sleep was because everyone was so exhausted. Also, Spike wasn't there so we'd be even more crowded if we tried it here."

Spike nodded sagely in agreement. Even if he hadn't gotten bigger turning into a human, he still wouldn't want to try crowding everyone together on a single mattress.

"Twilight," Dresden said, sounding pained. "I'm know you're trying to help, but please…"

Dash chuckled. "Yeah, I get it. That night was pretty crazy. I was sore for two weeks after that." Dresden winced, but she didn't seem to notice. "So what're we doing? I dunno about sleeping, but I could really go for some food right now."

Dresden sighed "Well–"

"My shift's almost up," Sgt. Murphy said, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. She sounded kind of like Twilight when she found a jam-stained clawprint on one of the library books. Like she was angry but trying not to be angry, only she was still actually super angry underneath the calm. Spike usually took that as a cue to leave the library for a few hours. "Let's grab some food, and then we can set up some sleeping arrangements. I can put up four of them at my house."

"And we've got room for two more at my parent's house," Molly interjected.

"Hey–" Dresden started.

"Then it's settled," Sgt. Murphy said, ignoring Dresden's indignant expression. "You girls can sort out which four are coming with me, the other two will stay with the Carpenters, and 'Emperor Drakon' can spend the night with Dresden."

Spike flushed and scowled. Somehow the way _she_ said it, his totally amazing title sounded… stupid. Still, a sleepover at Dresden's would be a ton of fun. A real guy's night out. Or 'in', maybe, since they weren't going anywhere. Hopefully, Dresden stocked ice cream. Oh, and human comics. Spike couldn't wait to get a look at some of those.

"Fine," Dresden said, sighing. "What were you thinking?"

Sgt. Murphy grabbed her purse and a thin jacket. "Hmm… IHOP."

"So do I!" Pinkie Pie confided, throwing an arm over Sgt. Murphy's shoulders. "But for now let's focus on getting some dinner."

Dresden and Molly chuckled, and Sgt. Murphy rolled her eyes. "Fine, how about we go to the International House of Pancakes?"

Spike's mouth watered at the thought. Pancakes were delicious, and any restaurant dedicated to them had to make some tasty stuff. He nodded happily, gathering his backpack of Rarity's belongings. "I could go for that."

The rest of the group made various approving noises and everyone shuffled out of the room, following Sgt. Murphy. Dresden's car wasn't as nice as the police's car, but it was still pretty cool. Rarity made a face after getting a look at it and rode with Sgt. Murphy. The trip didn't take very long, which was another neat thing about cars, but Spike had to wonder if Dresden's car was supposed to be making some of those sounds.

IHOP smelled delicious, but the building wasn't that impressive for a place that was supposed to be 'international'. Dresden grabbed a long table that was half booth and half seats and waved somebody over. The server brought over some menus and promised she'd be back in minute to take drink orders.

"Ooo, look at that! A whole rack of flavored syrups!" Pinkie said. She paused and frowned. "But they're so little."

"They'll bring you more if we run out," Molly said, examining her menu. "Or you can always take one from an empty table."

Dresden folded his menu and sighed. "I hope it doesn't hurt your feelings, but I'm really in the mood for something savory. I'm going to get a combo with plenty of meat."

Everyone glanced back and forth, confused. "Dresden," Twilight began, "why would that hurt our feelings? We may not eat meat, but we have, ah… neighbors that do. So long as you aren't eating anything intelligent or making animals suffer unnecessarily, then we won't judge."

"Yeah, just don't ask me to try any," Dash joked, then picked her menu back up. "I dunno about you guys, but I want an omelette."

"Lookie! All-you-can-eat pancakes! If that wasn't made for me, I don't know what was!" Pinkie said, licking her lips at the thought. The server returned and everyone gave their drink orders.

Spike slumped slightly. He been through the whole menu and hadn't seen what he hoped against hope for. "No gems?" he said sadly, checking the 'combos' page once more just to be certain.

"You _eat_ gems?" Molly gaped.

"Spike," Twilight said sternly, then she sighed. "Yes, he does, but from what I gather, gemstones are far more common where we're from."

"Quite so," Rarity said. "In fact, considering that all of us visiting you unannounced could be something of a financial burden, I took the liberty of bringing a small selection of gemstones from my shop. I thought we could use those to cover the cost of our visit."

"You've complained for years about paying rent and making ends meet," Sgt. Murphy said, shaking her head in disbelief. "And all this time you've had a backdoor to some place where jewels are so common that people eat them."

"Hey!" Dresden said, raising his hands in protest. "I didn't exactly have the chance to go digging for diamonds either time I was there. I could have if I _really_ needed to, but that brings up the bigger issues–"

He stopped suddenly as their server bustled up with a tray full of drinks balanced on one hand. "Are you folks ready to order?" she asked as she passed them out.

"Sure. I'll get the Original Buttermilk Pancakes," Sgt. Murphy said.

Molly took Sgt. Murphy's menu and piled it up with her own. "Double BLT for me."

"All right. And you, miss?"

Twilight passed her menu to Molly in turn. "The New York Cheesecake Pancakes sound delicious," she said.

"That one's my favorite," the server confided. "And for you?"

"Harvest Grain n' Nut with the apple topping," Applejack said. "I'm curious to see how they stack up to Granny Smith's."

"I want a cheese omelette," Dash put in, leaning her chair back on two legs. "But it better have _lots_ of cheese."

"All-You-Can-Eat Pancakes!" Pinkie burst out on Dash's heels, her voice a little too loud with excitement.

"And I want the Breakfast Sampler," Dresden said, practically licking his chops.

"All right then. And you, hon?" the server said, looking to Spike.

"I'll get the Rooty Tooty Fresh n' Fruity Pancakes," he said. Long ago, he had noticed a positive correlation between how ridiculously a food was named and how tasty it was. The Cakes' MMMM was a prime example.

"And which topping?" she asked. "Whipped cream, peaches, strawberries, or cinnamon apple compote?"

"Oh, uh, whipped cream is fine," Spike said.

"I shall have the raspberry and peach pancakes," Rarity stated primly. "A short stack, if you please."

"Yes, ma'am." The girl looked expectantly at Fluttershy. "And for you, miss?" she prompted after a moment.

"Um, I'd like the strawberry-banana pancakes, please. Thank you very much."

"You got it. Can I bring you anything else while you wait?" Everyone shook their heads. "All right. My name's Mabel, if you need anything."

Dresden watched her go, then leaned forward to put his elbows on the table and went back to what he was saying. "So, anyway. Without proof of where I suddenly came up with a bunch of jewels, just about any legitimate dealer would assume they were stolen or smuggled. That means I'd have to go underground to sell them, and _that_ means dealing with Marcone's people."

Spike frowned at that. He didn't remember Dresden ever mentioning this 'Marcone' in any of his letters, but if he lived underground and dealt in jewels, he must be something like a Diamond Dog. Spike disliked him instantly.

"And if I started trading in gems regularly, those same people would start wondering where I got them. I'm good at sneaking around the city, but it wouldn't be hard to tail me out of town, and that throws the whole 'secrecy' thing out the window."

Sgt. Murphy considered that and nodded. "Makes sense, but I doubt you're ready to foot their room and board for a week out of your own pocket. As long as it doesn't involve anything illegal, one sale shouldn't put anyone at risk."

Dresden grunted. "It'll hurt my pride, but better that than my wallet. We'll go see one of Marcone's people in the morning."

"I'm sorry to cause you such discomfort, Mr. Dresden," Rarity put in. "I truly thought gemstones would pass for currency practically anywhere."

"Don't worry," Murphy said with a wicked little smirk. "He'll live. His pride could use a little deflating."

The server brought the plates out on a huge platter a few moments later, stifling any reply, and then everyone was too busy eating to talk. Mostly.

"Do we have to use these?" Applejack asked as she fumbled with her silverware, glaring at it. "I get that y'all's flat faces ain't the best for eatin' like normal folk, but I reckon I can manage just fine with my hands."

Molly stared at her flatly. "If you're okay with getting your hands sticky and, no offense, looking like a slob, then go for it."

"Thanks!" Applejack said brightly, shoving her fork and knife away from her.

Pinkie went through her first stack of pancakes like a buzzsaw and sent the server back for more almost as soon as the poor girl had stepped away. Syrup flowed in steady streams up and down the table, and Sgt. Murphy wore an expression that could only be called jealousy.

"How any of you keep those figures is beyond me. You supernatural types have all the luck," she said, but that didn't stop her from drowning her own pancakes in strawberry sauce. Everyone set to work on their plate of food, or plates in Pinkie's case, and before too long the table was finished.

"So," Twilight said, carefully dabbing away a spot of jam with her napkin, "four at Miss Murphy's, two at Molly's, and Spike is going with Dresden? How do we want to decide who goes where?"

"I want to hang with Murphy for the night," Dash said, grinning widely and nodding towards the sergeant. "You've still got plenty of those eye-key-dough moves to show me."

Sgt. Murphy gave a small eye roll. "Aikido, but that's fine with me. I've only got one guest bed, but it's a double, and I have a couple of couches."

"We've only got the one couch, and our family's guest bed is a twin." Molly shrugged. "Still, with all the kids and beds in our house we could probably scare up another one if nobody wanted the couch."

"You live with a big family?" Applejack asked. "Shoot, I don't mind taking a couch.. Be pretty interestin' to see how big families here compare to the Apple family."

"Lots of kids?" Pinkie exclaimed, licking clean her tenth plate. She'd stolen at least two of every kind of syrup bottle from the nearby tables in the process. "Count me in! This will be super fun!" Molly stared, and Spike chuckled. Molly's family was going to get more than they'd bargained for after all the sugar Pinkie had just downed.

"That settles that," Rarity said, taking a sip of her tea. She'd been disappointed to find that IHOP served it in a coffee mug instead of a proper teacup, but she was drinking it anyway. "I wouldn't mind a quiet night at Sgt. Murphy's. After all the walking we've done today, my– erm, 'feet' are killing me."

Sgt. Murphy nodded. "I've got work in the morning, so I'll drop all of you off at Dresden's about seven thirty and you can figure out the hotel situation from there." She fixed Dresden with an icy glare. "And you and I can have a _talk_ about all this." Dresden winced, and gave her a sheepish smile.

Twilight gave a small cough, her face set in hard lines, and got Sgt. Murphy's attention. "I'd like to remind you that Dresden only did what we asked. Given the kind of supernatural threats of which you're aware, is it surprising that we asked him to keep us a secret?"

"No," Sgt. Murphy retorted, "but I don't appreciate being forced to fly blind when my job is protecting this city. I trust Dresden when he says you aren't a threat, but I'd like to have that trust reciprocated instead of being shut out."

Twilight chewed that over. "That's… understandable," she admitted, but didn't say anything more.

"Anyway, let's get going," Dresden said. "It's a school night, and we've got plenty to do in the morning."

"But I haven't had all I can eat," Pinkie whined, pouting.

"If we waited on that, we'd be here half the night, sugarcube." Applejack chuckled. Pinkie shrugged, but her expression said that Applejack wasn't wrong, and she got up to follow everyone.

"Thanks," Pinkie said cheerfully to the shellshocked server that had barely kept pace with her. "That was de~lish!" She dug around in her hair and brought out a small sapphire that she flipped to her to cover the tip.

Night in Chicago was surprisingly bright. There were lamps or whatever on tall poles all around. Some of them were softly illuminated, but most cast a harsh glare that made the shadows around them stand out even more. Out in the 'parking lot', everyone exchanged hugs and Twilight reminded everyone to behave themselves. Spike understood why she gave Pinkie a look to go with the warning, but for some reason Twilight included him too. Still, glare or not, this was exciting. He'd never been to an all-guy sleepover before. Even if it was just the two of them.

Molly, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie got out at a neat looking little house. Pinkie was almost shaking with excitement, and Molly was looking more and more like she regretted her decision. She gave Dresden one last despairing look, but he just shook his head. "You chose this path, Padawan. Now you have to live with it."

She flinched at that, but leaned in. "Okay, so we're still working on your say-so, but she is safe, right?"

Dresden chucked. "She's fine, but a little excited. Applejack should help you keep her under control; that girl has a good head on her shoulders."

Molly bit her lip. "Yeah, but…"

"Aw, shucks," Applejack said, slapping her hand onto Molly's shoulder and staggering the girl for a second. "I know what it's like, lookin' out for your family. Pinkie and I are a mite odd, I won't deny that, but we don't mean no harm. I promise. Right, Pinkie?" She glanced beside her to find that Pinkie was missing.

"Come on, come on," she whined, standing by the front door already. She fidgeted in place like a little filly that needed the bathroom.

Molly sighed. "Fine, make yourselves at home. Just let me dig out my front door key…"

"Woo-hoo! IT'S PARTY TIME!" Pinkie shouted, throwing open the front door of Molly's house. Then she dove in. There was the sound of panicked shouting from within, accompanied by sugar-fueled maniacal laughter.

"That's my cue to leave," Dresden said. "Try to keep your mom from killing her, or we'll have an interdimensional incident on our hands. See you tomorrow."

Dresden raced – well, scooted – off into the night as Molly and Applejack sprinted into the house. Spike could have sworn he heard Dresden mumble under his breath, "Suspect the worst of me, will they? Those chickens are coming home to roost." Spike was certain he must have misheard, because there wasn't anything to do with chickens in this situation.

Spike tried to strike up a conversation, but Dresden seemed focused on something else. All of his replies were one syllable. Spike figured he must have a lot on his mind and shrugged. Instead, he watched the Chicago scenery go by, struck again by just how much of it there was. You could fit all of Ponyville into one of the parks so long as you didn't include any farmland.

As it turned out, Dresden didn't have a house.

He had a _lair_.

"This is so _cool_ ," Spike said, throwing himself onto the old, cushy couch.

Dresden snorted. "This might be the first time my place has impressed anyone, ever." He sighed and shook his head. "I'll be in the lab, working on a case. There're plenty of books and a few comics if you're bored. I think there's still some ice cream in the ice box, too. You can help yourself there. Thomas, my roommate, hasn't been home most nights of the past week. He normally takes the couch, but he shouldn't need it. If he shows up, tell him to take it up with me."

Spike stopped bouncing, and his face fell. "We aren't going to hang out? Even if you've got work, I could help! I'm Twilight's number one assistant for a reason."

"Thanks, but unless you can do my brand of magic or have some kind of dragon tracking ability, it's better that I work alone. Besides, I'd hate to work you on your vacation."

"I guess," Spike said. Dresden nodded and went over to a corner, lifting up a rug and revealing a trap door – an _actual secret_ trap door – and disappeared into his 'lab' down below. _Totally_ a lair. He just needed some of Twilight's science stuff and a secret entrance and he would be just like one of those brooding anti-heroes that were all the rage in today's comics. That Thomas guy was probably his sidekick.

"Speaking of which," Spike said, wandering over to a couple of over stuffed bookshelves. He clucked his tongue looking at the state of most of Dresden's paperbacks. Twilight would have a fit if she saw these. His comics looked like they were in better condition. "Spider-Man, huh? Looks like he's got a lot of these. Let's see how human heroes stack up."

…

Some days Officer Pearson regretted becoming a state trooper. Most often during the summer, when every one of Minnesota's ten thousand lakes seemed full of mosquitoes. It wasn't summer right now. September was usually that perfect time of the year, when the bugs of summer had died down but the frigid winter wasn't here just yet. There was a crisp sort of perfection to the autumn woods, especially this far from major cities. Today should've been a day that Officer Pearson could enjoy.

"But no," he mumbled under his breath, following an old logging trail into the deeper parts of the forest near town. "I have to be stuck out here dealing with this bullshit. 'I swear I saw a snake, Chief Saunders. It was big enough to make off with my dog.' Hmph." If Austin wasn't the Chief's nephew there was no way he'd have been taken seriously. And now poor old Officer Pearson was out here on a snipe hunt for no better reason than he didn't look busy enough when the Chief glanced into the room.

It was late afternoon, but a chill wind was starting to blow. Officer Pearson shivered slightly, and glared at the surrounding woods. He'd spend another hour looking, but then he was going back. Stupid assignment. This kind of thing should be Animal Control's job anyway.

There was a rasping movement through forest, stirring the underbrush. He stopped and unholstered his pistol. It was probably nothing, but he didn't want to be unprepared if a coyote or a wolf decided to attack him. He noticed distantly that the faint bird song of the forest had stopped. Everything was dead silent.

Officer Pearson swallowed nervously, and began to back slowly away, keeping his pistol trained on the area where he had heard the rustling come from. He glanced back to make sure he wasn't about to walk into anything. When his eyes snapped back, he almost dropped his gun in shock.

There was a snake rearing up out of the bushes beside the trail. It was as thick around as an anaconda, and it was holding its head almost high enough to look him in the eye. Maybe Austin _hadn't_ just been telling tales. Only, this thing wasn't really a snake. The head was too wide, the mouth filled with row upon row of teeth, and it had six eyes, three on each side. Bat-like wings stretched out from its back and a pair of stubby little arms or legs grasped the branches beside it.

Whatever it was, its body language said one thing clearly. It considered him dinner. Officer Pearson lined up his shot and stopped his hands from shaking. The gun went off with a roar, and the creature screamed and fell back into the bush. Officer Pearson stayed where he was, neither running or advancing. It probably wasn't dead, and wounded animals were dangerous to approach. Running would just mark him as a target. Instead, he slowly backed away, never taking his eyes off where he had last seen it.

The underbrush rustled again, this time accompanied by a low pitched growl. That scream must have been more anger than pain. He kept his gun trained, but the thing suddenly shot out from under the bush, moving faster than he would have believed possible. It covered the distance in a sinuous motion that threw off his aim. He squeezed the trigger smoothly several times, then started jerking it frantically as the thing closed, but his shots just threw up soil and leaves around the creature, and then it was on him. It didn't so much slam into him as clamber up his body, overbearing him with its weight and driving him to the ground. The gun went flying from his hand in the struggle. He tried to shove it off, but its stubby arms latched onto his shoulders and dug their claws in deep. Officer Pearson howled in pain and his arms lost all their strength.

Six eyes met his own, and suddenly the pain from his shoulders was nothing. There was a weird mental pressure on him, a relentless tide battering against his mind. It pressed on him for a moment, then broke through like a pick-ax to the skull. A breathless scream trailed out of him as memories and thoughts were torn to pieces, gobbled down like scraps of meat. Ghostly sounds and images began to flash before his eyes, meaningless. It eventually stopped, but far too late; he felt hazy, thoughts slipping through his fingers almost as soon as they formed. As the light began to die in his eyes, the creature started to change. Three eyes merged into one, scales smoothed into dirty ghost white skin, and stringy red hair grew from its scalp as the mouth and jaw shrank to human proportions.

The creature that crouched over him would have passed for a young woman that had once been pretty, but had spent the last few years strung out on meth and physically abused. Ribs poked from beneath tight-drawn skin, and she had nothing in the way of breasts. If she weren't completely naked, he might never have realized she was a woman. Officer Pearson thought it was odd that his last moments should end in a haze of hallucinations, but it was probably better than feeling whatever that snake-creature was doing to his body for real.

"My, my," she said smacking her lips as though she had just enjoyed something tasty. "You apes have done well for yourselves in my absence, haven't you?" She locked eyes with him and he felt himself slipping away, the afternoon sunlight growing dim around him. "Shhh… don't struggle. This is simply the… circle of life. The natural order. You've served your purpose."

Everything was dark. He couldn't feel his legs. Or his arms. Or anything, really.

"After all, meat is best when it's fresh."


	5. Chapter 4

Edited by: SilentCarto

Proofreader: Coandco

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, that is Jim Butcher and Hasbro respectively. This story takes place between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files.

And the dawn came up like thunder.

Or at least that's what the savage knocking on my door at 6:30 AM felt like. I mumbled my way awake, pausing only to throw on a bathrobe and grab my blasting rod. Just because I was expecting Murphy didn't mean that's who was going to show up.

"Password?" I asked from the safe side of my steel door.

There was some confused mumbling on the other side until Murphy's voice cut through it. "Open the damn door before I knock it down."

I grinned. That was her, all right. I pulled the bolt back, muttered something to disarm my wards, and tugged at the door. It took a moment and some metallic screeching before the door came open. The door frame had been bent ever since a horde of zombies had tried to break in during one hell of a Halloween. Murphy and the girls she had hosted stood on the other side.

"Come on in. I don't have coffee ready yet, but it won't take me long," I told them. For some reason they hesitated a second, and Twilight put forth one hand searchingly. Whatever she felt satisfied her and she marched past, yawning enormously.

"I've got some questions when you're done talking to Murphy," Twilight said over her shoulder.

Rainbow bounded inside next, looking surprisingly energetic, and Fluttershy followed. Where the other three were obviously dressed in the same clothing as yesterday, Rarity was wearing a pair well-tailored black slacks, a stylish sweater, and a flat pair of shoes. Somehow that didn't surprise me. "I'd rather have tea than coffee," Rarity said, "but have no fear, I'll set both to boiling. I'll just be a moment."

"So," Murphy said, standing to the side with her arms crossed, "how about my explanation?" There were some faint circles beneath her eyes, so I figured that her night had been a busy one. I chuckled internally at that, but still stepped outside and half closed the door.

"Fair's fair," I said, "but I'm going to have to start with an analogy. Remember what I've told you about the Nevernever?"

Murphy nodded. "Spirit world, home to demons, fairies and most other supernatural critters. Traveling it without a known path is suicide, because it's pretty much infinite and most of the stuff in it is happy to eat you."

I nodded. "Good memory. I got chased off one of the known paths a few years ago and discovered that there's more to it than just that. I used to think the Nevernever was something that just surrounded Earth. It's more like the sea. And not just because it's dark, terrifying, and full of massive predators. Just like any other ocean, it has islands. Earth is one of them. Those girls come from another."

Murphy blinked at that, taking a moment to process it. "So you're talking some kind of alternate world? Another dimension? This is some comic-book stuff, Harry."

I shot her an exasperated look. "Murphy, you're a cop that fights vampires and your best source of information is a wizard who pays the bills with PI work. We're beyond the point where something like this is weird."

She shrugged in response. "I get the point, but still…" She shook her head. "Alternate worlds and whatever are great and all, but if that's the only thing, then why all the secrecy?"

My response was a grimace. "Well, that's the thing about islands. Have you ever heard of Mauritius?"

For a moment the name didn't mean anything to her, but then she got it. "Isn't that the place where dodos came from?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it was small island in the middle of nowhere without any big predators or threats to the harmless birds that lived there. It's not a perfect comparison – the girls come from a place with its own predators and darkness – but it's nothing compared to our world. There are no vampires, no ghouls, no fae, and demons are so rare that they're practically myths. Their demi-gods actually try to help people and use their power for good. I've spent less than two weeks there and the difference was unreal.

"I can't be the one to ruin that, Murph. I found my way there on accident, and I never wanted to be the one to reveal them to the monsters here. Imagine the Red Court, or any other supernatural nation, discovering their home. They'd see it as easy prey and flood the place. Even if the Princesses and their armies beat them, it wouldn't be without bloodshed. I couldn't tell anyone, so there was no chance that the information could ever get out."

Murphy stood silently for a moment, then a wicked grin split her face. "And it had absolutely nothing do with the fact that they're fluffy little ponies with brightly-colored coats and big, expressive eyes?"

My blood turned to ice. "Oh God. They told you. Why did they tell you?"

The smile disappeared, and Murphy's expression turned serious. "Actually, I took matters into my own hands. I couldn't be sure they hadn't gotten to you somehow, especially with how secretive you were being. So I didn't invite them in or warn them about my threshold. The moment Twilight passed the doorframe her spell broke, and she transformed back." A few chuckles escaped her and the smile was back and more wicked than ever. "Turned back into a little unicorn pony, complete with adorable little horn. Why didn't you want to tell me all about your _magical_ adventures with your little friends? Did they invite you to their tea parties and let you brush their manes?" The chuckles turned into full out belly laughs, and my face burned red hot.

"Hey! I'll have you know I killed a demon with a superpowered magic blast thanks to them and uncovered a massive cult-cum-conspiracy the second time around. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows the whole damn time!" That only made her laugh harder.

Finally she slowed enough to speak and said, "Oh, I know. They gave me _all_ the details of how they saved the day and pulled your ass out of the fire with the _magic of friendship_!"

"Damnit, Murph!" I shouted, cheeks burning hotter than ever. "It was a _lot_ cooler than you're making it sound!"

"I know, I know," she said. "I didn't laugh when they told the story. At least, not until _you_ got turned into a pony!" That started the laughing again, she wrapped her arms around her middle and nearly bent double as I stared on sourly. I had to remind myself that murder was generally frowned upon, even if you _could_ just dump the body into the Nevernever and get away with it scot-free. I was about to tell her off again, which doubtless would have just resulted in more laughter on her part. But then I heard a faint sound that was growing louder and louder as I listened.

I put up a hand, hoping against hoping that she'd stop. "Do you hear that?" Nobody could doubt that Murphy was a professional. The laughter stopped almost immediately, and one hand slid towards her holster as she listened attentively.

"It sounds like..." she began, her expression confused, "singing?"

I took my front steps two at a time, blasting rod still clenched tightly in one hand. Given my usual luck, anything out of the ordinary would mean something bad for me. As it turned out, I was right, but not in the way I expected. A large family van pulled around the corner, and as it drew closer I not only realized that it was the source of the singing, but I could make out the lyrics, too.

 _~ Dough! For bread, for baking bread._

 _Ray! A funny looking fish._

 _Me! The person in the mirror._

 _Fa – ther Christmas grants your wish!_

 _Sow! To plant our seeds for fall._

 _LA! A city on the coast._

 _Tee! It holds a golfer's ball._

 _And we'll make that Dough our toast!~_

"One more time!" Pinkie cheered from the Carpenters' van as it screeched to stop in the driveway, and all of the kids cheered in response, ready to launch into another verse.

"Oh, look at that," Charity Carpenter, the matriarch of the family, said a bit too loudly. "We're here. Say goodbye to 'Auntie Pinkie' and AJ, children." There was a chorus of disappointment, but Pinkie moved seat to seat somehow giving every child a quick hug before she popped out through the side door.

"Good morning, Dresden!" she announced happily, darting forward to hug me before I could react. Behind her Applejack climbed more sedately out of the car, saying something to Charity that I didn't catch.

"Good morning, Pinkie," I said cautiously. "Why does Mrs. Carpenter look like she wants to throw me through a window? Did you do something?"

She laughed easily in response. "Of course not, I was the perfectest guest you could ever want, and Applejack was pretty good too. Anyway, that rumbly in your tumbly tells me that you haven't had breakfast yet, so I'ma gonna cook you up something tasty." And with that she was gone down the stairs and into my apartment almost before I could blink.

"Mr. Dresden," Charity Carpenter said in a cross tone of voice, "I'd like to have a chat with you."

Murphy patted me on the back and trooped off to her car. "I need to leave for work. Try not to let your magical pony friends cause any trouble."

I scowled at her, but put some steel in my spine before walking over to Charity's van. She had never really liked me, mostly because she was convinced I was going to get her husband killed in one of our adventures. She warmed up a bit after I rescued Molly from the Winter Fae and then saved her from the justice of the White Council by taking her as my apprentice, but things still weren't exactly chummy between us.

"So," I said, leaning down, and resting my elbow on her open window, "how did you enjoy the guests that _Molly_ invited to your house?" Charity glared at me, but all I did was smile. I vaguely heard something that sounded like 'oh God' from the back of the van where Molly sat amongst her many siblings.

Charity stared at me with all the intensity of a hawk watching a mouse, but when she finally spoke her tone was civil. "I've already discussed it with Molly, but I'd like to let you know a few things. I had no problems with AJ; she was as helpful as anyone could wish, though a bit odd. _Pinkie_ on the other hand…" Charity snorted, and despite my expectations no flames or brimstone shot out of her nostrils. "She stormed into the house like a thing possessed, scared all of the little ones until AJ calmed her down, then all of her games and songs kept them up an hour past bedtime, after which she stayed up to watch our Disney movies until at least one in the morning. Then she had the _gall_ to not only be bright and cheery at five AM but also to take over my kitchen!"

I thought briefly of the delicious pastries she'd made before, and was barely able to contain my sympathy. "Oh, how horrible for you," I said, my stomach rumbling in agreement.

She fixed me with a gimlet stare. "Have somebody else take charge of your workroom or lab or what-have-you without your permission and then get back to me." She sighed, and rubbed her temple. I noticed the dark shadows under her eyes; I suppose 'one in the morning' wasn't just a guess on her part. "Next time I need a babysitter I'll pay whatever she asks, but until then I'd rather you kept her out of my hair."

I chuckled to myself, "They're only going to be in town for a few days, so you don't have much to worry about. They just got in late last night and didn't have a place to crash. I'm taking care of that today."

Charity looked like she didn't know whether to glare at me some more or be grateful. "Thank you, Mr. Dresden. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a car full of children that need to go to school." There were some half-hearted protests to that, but by the time Charity had turned around the kids were quiet.

"Sure thing," I said, patting the roof of her van and standing clear. "Just send Molly my way after school today. I'll need her help keeping this bunch out of trouble."

Charity nodded, rolled up the window, and set off. I chuckled again to myself, and followed the stairs down to my apartment to find AJ waiting outside the door. She looked confused. "Twilight said I had to wait out here 'til you specifically invited me in. What's the deal there?"

"That's what _I'd_ like to know," Twilight's voice called out from inside the apartment. "Now hold still, Pinkie!"

I grunted, and rolled my eyes. Of course. Way to forget that. Though it was interesting to see that even a threshold as weak as mine would reverse their transformations. Given the effect of running water on magic, I'd better keep them out of the rain just in case. Thankfully, there were barely any clouds to be seen in the dim morning light.

"Come in, Applejack. You're welcome in my home," I said, and she cautiously took a step forward, seemingly encouraged when her transformation didn't fall apart.

I followed her in, shut the door, and murmured something to rearm my wards. The ponies-turned-humans had certainly made themselves at home. A pair of piping kettles told me that Rarity was true to her word. Fluttershy was cooing to Mouse and rubbing his belly, entirely unfazed by the fact that he was at least twice the size he'd been the last time she'd seen him. As I expected, Pinkie Pie was back to being a pony, and Twilight seemed to be doing her best to reverse that situation. My rugs had been pulled back, and a circle had been scrawled on the floor in chalk. Pinkie was in the center, oohing and ahhing over my less-than-impressive apartment. Though, give her credit for good taste; she did seem to like my vintage Star Wars movie poster.

Power pulsed from Twilight into the circle, and with a sudden twist and motion too quick for the eye to follow, Pinkie turned into a human girl. A conspicuously _naked_ human girl with plenty of curves all in the right places. I averted my eyes, but I'd already seen more than I ever needed to. My body disagreed, but what the hell does it know?

"Here. Put your clothes back on, darling. It's dreadfully drafty in here," Rarity said somewhere behind me. "And be glad you didn't rip anything getting out of them like when Twilight changed back. It took me a good hour to restore her clothing to proper form."

"I was caught by surprise, that's all!" Twilight said, and I could hear the blush in her voice. She also sounded tired, but given the amount of power it takes to transform someone, that didn't surprise me.

"So what the hay is happening there?" Rainbow asked, munching on some dry cereal, the heathen. "Does every human have an anti-transformin' spell on their doors? Also, Pinkie's dressed, so you can turn around."

Pinkie was still struggling into her dress, striking all manner of poses that my glands enjoyed, but technically all of her bits were covered so I couldn't blame Rainbow too much. I schooled my face to a serious expression and turned to her. "Murphy didn't explain things?"

"Not quite," Twilight said, clearing away the chalk marks on my floor with a wave of her hands and a quiet surge of power. "She told me that it had to do with a 'threshold' and how that protected people from magic and various supernatural creatures, but it still left me with plenty of questions she couldn't answer."

We weren't exactly on the clock, so I went ahead and gave them the low-down on thresholds while Rarity passed around mugs of coffee and tea. Rainbow Dash and Applejack lost interest pretty quick, but Twilight was fascinated. "Amazing! That sort of thing is an entirely different form of magic from anything I've seen in Equestria. Is it actually a subtle form of innate magic unique to humans or simply a subconscious use of natural magic more akin to the abilities of Earth ponies? Oh, I wish I had more time here. I could write a whole thesis on the similarities and differences between Human and Equestrian magic. Which is to say nothing of the other creatures you've indicated as magic-capable." Her smile turned wry and she chuckled. "Not that I could publish it even if I wrote it, but you know."

I actually did know. Beneath the hard-boiled exterior that Chicago knows and loves (sort of) I'm really a great big magic geek. Believe me, projects like Little Chicago weren't done by people who have things to do on Friday nights. "Speaking of those differences, I've got to ask about those transformations. Did you just copy the first people you saw and change the hair color or did you just make them up completely yourself?"

Twilight grinned. "Neither, really. We had to practice walking in this form before we got used to it and Rarity needed our measurements to make our clothing. I'm flattered you'd think I could whip these up all by myself, but I'd never even seen a female human before."

A frown creased my face as I tried to puzzle that out. "Then how'd you manage it?"

"It goes back to how transformation magic works. Pinto, one of the earliest pony mages and philosophers, theorized that everything in the world has a 'perfect concept' only accessible through magic. I linked each of us to the concept of 'human' to perform the transformation. It's energy intensive, but a very safe and effective method, However, any concept has many forms in the real world and exactly how something is transformed will vary. The prevailing theory is that the transformed object will act as if it had always been the new object. For example, if I had been born a human, this is what I would have looked like. The other theory is that the transformed object becomes its nearest possible match – in other words, it is most similar to its original form as possible within the confines of its new form," Twilight lectured.

By this point, everyone in the room except me had wandered off to chat and enjoy their tea. I found it fascinating, myself, but something did puzzle me. "But wouldn't it obviously be the second? All of you have the same hair and eye color."

"Not quite," Twilight replied. "I made those changes myself; the spellcaster does have some control over the transformation. The less the transformed object fights the change, the longer the spell will last. Adding or changing certain details can help the transformed creature accept the new body and fight the transformation less. Though, I stretched things too far when I tried to let Dash keep her wings. That was too far outside the bounds of 'human' and the transformation failed." She blushed and rubbed one hand on the back of her head. "The magical fallout from that scorched one of my nicer rugs, but it was a valuable learning experience."

"Jeez, enough egghead talk. Let's get down to business!" Rainbow said. "We're here to have a good time, see the sights, and maybe fight a few monsters!" Fluttershy eep'ed softly and hid behind Mouse at that one. "So where do we start?"

I rolled my eyes, but didn't let her see. " I've got some work to do, and I'm sorry, but you'll need to stay here until I can get back. Once that's done, we'll get those jewels changed into money, and Molly can take you shopping for more clothes." _Especially some real underwear,_ I thought. "Then we'll get that hotel room and show you some of the sights, maybe grab some dinner."

"What _kind_ of work?" Pinkie asked, somehow popping up beside me. There was a stack of pancakes balanced on both of her hands, and I belatedly realized that my griddle was sizzling with more of them cooking. I hadn't even seen her light the fire.

"Detective work," I said, trying to evade the question and snag some pancakes. "Nothing special." The last thing I needed was to get them caught up in whatever was going on with Sean Belfast. Last night's work with Little Chicago, which my brother affectionately refers to as a 'voodoo doll of the entire city', had given me some of Sean's movements over the past week. The trails were faint, weakened by the days that had passed, but there was enough to show me that he hadn't left the city through normal means. Whatever had happened to Sean, he was still in Chicago.

"Don't be like that," Applejack said, as she set the table with my limited dishware. "Believe me, I know a thing or two about biting off more than you can chew. We don't mind taking the time to help you out."

"It's just a missing college student. I can handle it," I growled softly, still trying to get at the pancakes that Pinkie was 'accidentally' keeping out of my reach with how she bustled all over the small kitchen. "I don't show up to your farm and tell you how to harvest apples."

"Be that as it may–" Rarity began, but the screeching sound of metal on metal interrupted her. Someone was opening my door.

A quick mental check on my wards reassured me. They were intact, just disarmed. I had only trusted two people with a charm to let them freely in and out of my apartment, and I doubted Murphy had come back so soon.

"Hey, Harry, we have _got_ to get that door fixed," Thomas said once he finally had the door open. "Also, if Lara calls, I've been here since last night with my cell phone off." Thomas is my half-brother and living, breathing commercial for those ridiculous body sprays. He's also a vampire of the White Court, an incubus that feeds on life force gathered through lust. The sex appeal is part of their ability to hunt, and the people they preyed upon drowned in desire even as the last of their life was drained. Thomas was different, though. After almost killing the woman he loved while feeding, he had left his vampiric family and worked to live as a normal person. Well, as close as anything gets to normal around here.

He looked in my direction and seemed about to say something else, but stopped dead, his eyes turning a cold silver that meant his inner predator was rising to the surface. "Harry," he said carefully, not moving a muscle. "Why are there five beautiful virgins in your apartment?"

The girls had also frozen. Every one of them stared at Thomas like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Rarity's eyes were lidded and she wore a small indulgent smile. Twilight was breathless, and a heavy blush obscured Fluttershy's face. Applejack shook with what looked like restrained need. Pinkie grinned like she'd just found an extra big present under the Christmas tree, and Rainbow was biting her lower lip, trying – and failing – not to watch Thomas's every move.

For one long moment the tableau was frozen that way, and the only noise was Spike's snores from the couch. I faintly smelled some of the pancakes beginning to burn. One of the downsides to Thomas no longer draining people without regard to their safety is that he gets hungry. And when he's hungry, the magic that attracts women to him gets turned up to eleven. When he has everything under control he can damp down that effect, but being caught by surprise like this would make it near impossible. This many healthy, beautiful young women – exactly the sort of prey his instincts would scream at him to pursue – in the place he called home was simply too much temptation for him.

I stood up, and crossed the room quickly. "Hey, Thomas. Right now really isn't the best time. Sorry about that." I grabbed his arm and tried to lead him back out the door with me. It was like pulling on steel beam. He didn't move an inch and continued staring at the girls.

"Dresden," Rarity said, standing and smiling, "don't be so rude. You should introduce us to your guest."

Thomas smiled back, his eyes turning paler still. "And I would be honored to meet such lovely ladies."

The girls were starting to move towards him slowly, as if in a dream. Thomas didn't even seem to register my attempts to drag him away, so I did what all great wizards do: I cheated. "And I'm sure Justine would be happy to see you well fed," I said in a low voice.

Thomas turned to me faster than any human would be capable, glaring. "How _dare_ –" he started with a low growl, but then he blinked. As my words sank in the hard, possessive anger went out of his expression. "Sorry, Harry," he said, letting me lead him outside and shut the door after us. There were a few groans of disappointment from inside the apartment, but none of them ran after us. Which could have been a problem. I've seen women literally throw themselves at Thomas when he really has his power cranked up.

The silver faded from his eyes and he regained more and more control over himself. "Empty Night," he swore. "Some warning would have been nice. That was like dangling well-aged bourbon under an alcoholic's nose."

"Sorry. I didn't think about it until you got here. They showed up unexpectedly last night, and I was planning to get them a hotel room today," I frowned. "Will you need to stay clear? They're only going to be in town for a few days."

"I can manage if it's out in public somewhere. Just… don't leave me alone with them." His eyes flashed silver again for a brief second before calming back down, and his hands tightened in anger. Probably with himself. If the two of us were any indicator, guilt complexes must have run in the family.

"You think Lara might call for you?" I asked, looking to change the subject. Lara Raith is his half-sister (no relation to me), and she pretty much ran the White Court.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "She's already tried my cell phone twice, and I've been ignoring her. I was out last night with a bachelorette party, and I wasn't going to let her interrupt things."

I stared at him with an expression that was pure disgust. "Stars and stones, how many women was it?" Yeap, definitely disgust, not even the slightest bit of jealousy.

He smirked. "Enough to make me feel halfway decent for first time in a long time. Don't make that face at me. I didn't sleep with the bride, and it's easier to take less when there're more girls to take from."

I shook my head. "Any idea what she's calling about? Molly can watch the girls if you need my help."

Thomas stretched and yawned. "No, it's family politics again. Just the usual backstabbing, lies, and manipulation. I'm dragging my feet because whatever part she has planned for me, I'm not eager to jump into it."

I patted him on the back. "I'm there for you, buddy. Just a heads up for when you come back, there's six girls in the group, not five."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Harry, but believe or not, I can count."

I frowned. "Then–"

"Think about it. I'll see you later, assuming Lara doesn't kill me first."

He took the steps two at a time. After a moment I did think about it. The immediate conclusion I reached was that I should do less thinking about it. I went back into the apartment to find the girls recovering from the aftereffects of Thomas's mojo.

"W-who was that?" Twilight asked, a light blush still adorning her face.

"More like 'what' was that?" Applejack said, looking faintly disgusted. "I ain't never felt like _that_ before. It was like every bit of sense fell straight outta my head."

"Yeah," Rainbow chimed in. "Hairless apes aren't my thing, but with _him_ I just wanted to–" she cut herself off, flushing red and looking angry.

"That was my, er... roommate, Thomas," I said. I felt bad not telling them the whole truth, but they didn't need to know that we were brothers and letting the information slip even accidentally could doom both of us. We each had plenty of enemies that would take advantage of that fact, and given our allies … well, there was no sense letting the White Council know I was so closely connected to the White Court, especially since we were technically at war.

"Is he seeing anyone?" Pinkie asked with a big grin. I noticed that the burnt pancakes had disappeared and the ones she was making now were heart-shaped. "Because if not, I'd like to invite him to a private party."

"Pinkie!" Rarity gasped. "There is no need to be so uncouth. A gentleman like Thomas would clearly prefer somewhere candlelit and romantic. Perhaps Dresden could suggest an appropriate restaurant for the occasion."

Hell's bells, I'd seen movie theaters that didn't project as hard as Rarity could. "My first restaurant suggestion for any occasion will be Burger King," I snarked, but then deliberately turned my expression serious. "But we aren't having dinner with Thomas. He's a great guy, but he's also a vampire of the White Court." I explained what that meant, and the rest of the group quickly grew just as serious.

"They pretend to love people and then _drain_ them?" Twilight asked, her face horror-stricken. "Dear Celestia, and I thought changelings were bad."

I nodded. "Par for the course here. Plus the other two big Houses of the White Court don't use lust. They feed through fear and despair instead, which makes the process even uglier." There was sounds of disgust from the group and I nodded again. "Most of the White Court don't think about killing a person any more than you or I would think about eating dinner. Thomas, though, is trying to change. He'll take a little bit here and there, but he doesn't drain people beyond what they can heal and he takes as little as he can manage. Despite his family, he's a good person."

There were some glances exchanged after that, but Fluttershy surprised me by being the first to speak. "I think I understand. Some of my animal friends are carnivores and none of the other animals really like them, even though they only eat what they need to and don't enjoy hurting others. If you trust Thomas not to hurt us, then I trust that."

"Yeah, but if he tries that again on me, I'll show him a few of moves Murphy taught me," Rainbow bragged, throwing a few shadow jabs that seemed faster than a person should be able to move.

"Very well," Rarity said, adjusting her outfit with a newfound sense of solemnity about her. "I believe before he walked in we were discussing our plans for the day."

I snorted. "Somebody wake up Spike, and we'll discuss it over breakfast." Those pancakes smelled delicious. "Whatever we decide, the first step is clear. We need to get all of you that hotel ASAP. For that we'll need money, and the only place to get it is somebody who works for a monster."

…

'Gentleman' Johnny Marcone runs crime in Chicago.

I don't mean he runs protection rackets, drugs, the sex trade or the black market. He runs all of them. Anyone committing crimes in his territory without his approval has a tendency to get turned in to the police or disappear entirely. It all depends on much their involvement annoyed him.

He liked to pretend that he has a 'civilizing' effect on the criminal underground, but all he did was curb its excesses while making it churn out human misery more efficiently than ever. The police were hesitant to go after him even when they knew he was involved in something. Not only did he own all the right people and have an army of personal lawyers, but they were also afraid of the gang wars and violence that would engulf the city if they took out the man that kept everything in check.

Marcone and I had hated each other since the day I refused to work for him. He isn't anywhere close to the worst enemy I've had, and I've even worked with the guy on occasion. But that doesn't stop him from being a monster, and one day I'll run out of enemies worse than him. He was convinced I would get myself killed long before that happened, so neither of us had moved on the other. Not yet, anyway.

Selling gemstones is not as easy as it would sound. Any reputable jeweler will only buy through certified, contracted sources. Pawn shops are fine for jewelry, but when it came to loose stones like the ones Rarity had brought, the black market was the only place to sell without proof of where the stones had come from. And anyone in that business would answer to Marcone, directly or indirectly.

Joseph Futney was a wizened little guy that looked way older than he actually was. He ran a hand through his iron gray hair as he squinted through a glass eye at the gem he was handling. "Peridot weighing thirteen karats, good quality, decently but not spectacularly cut," he mumbled, scratching out notes in some sort of shorthand. "And you can't tell me where it was mined? That matters for the pricing, certain areas produce better stones."

Rarity glanced at me, but said nothing. I needed her here because she was an expert in the stones even if she didn't know any better than I did what kind of prices we'd get. "Yeah, actually. I was just having fun the first four times I answered that question. That one comes from the land of rainbows and unicorns."

"Wiseass," Joseph said under his breath. But there was sweat on his forehead and he glanced nervously at me right after he said it. I just smiled back with plenty of teeth. He flinched away and continued studying the jewels. For some reason all of Marcone's goons have it in their heads that I'm dangerous. It might be because Marcone and I have clashed before and certain buildings didn't survive the encounter. Or it could be because he was in the know about some of my more... _exuberant_ actions in the course of protecting the city.

I had scanned the place before coming in and the only danger we were in right now was dying of boredom. Magically, at least. I'd be shocked if he didn't have some security beyond the thug sitting in the corner keeping a watchful eye on us. Joseph was a paranoid little guy, taking his sweet time examining the stones. He was probably worried that they were fakes.

"Mr. Futney, why are you wasting our time?" Rarity asked. I could see some nervous tension in her, but she hid it well beneath a mask of slight annoyance.

He sniffed and made a show setting one of the jewels down. "I'm being certain that these gems are the real thing and worth offering on. If you think Mr. Dresden's reputation is enough to let you just waltz in here and drop off something without my utmost scrutiny then you'd be quite wrong." His words sounded good, but there was more sweat beading on his forehead and the room wasn't that hot.

"That is possible," Rarity said pleasantly, "but you've examined all of the stones by now. Also, your notes are not terribly difficult to decipher, as they are similar to how I categorize my own gems. You've already marked down that all of them are real, an initial offer, and a maximum offer." He clutched protectively at his notebook, but she continued. "That was five minutes ago, and everything you have added since is irrelevant and – in regards to the estimated size of my chest – inaccurate." She glared daggers at him, and he shrank back. "I would like to know why."

"That would be because he was waiting for _me_ to arrive," said a smooth, pleasant baritone. It was one that I unfortunately recognized.

Marcone wore a suit that cost more than my car and apartment combined. He had a strong, confident face. His eyes were the green of faded dollar bills, seemingly kindly, but cold ruthlessness waited just beneath the surface. He was flanked by his typical guards: Hendricks and Gard.

Hendricks looked like a gorilla that had been stuffed into a suit and given a red buzz cut, but I'd learned that he was smarter than he looked. And did I mention that his biceps were bigger around than my thigh? Yeah, I was pretty sure he could Hulk right out of that suit if he felt like it. Standing next to him, Gard was a beautiful woman over six feet tall. She had blue eyes, blond hair, and a chest that Joseph would have loved to estimate the size of. Her expression was colder than winter on Lake Michigan, but underneath it burned a battlelust that made most berserkers look tame. She'd left her double-bladed axe at home, which I took as a good sign, but I didn't doubt that she other means to wreak havoc with her. Marcone and Hendricks were pure human, but she was a capital-v Valkyrie. Her service to Marcone cost a fortune, and from what I'd seen, she was worth every penny.

"Oh, how wonderful," I said, staring at the procession without a trace of the entirely rational fear I felt at their sudden arrival. "It's exactly the last person in Chicago I ever wanted to see." Whatever Marcone wanted, he wasn't out for blood, not yet at least. If he planned to kill me, he wouldn't show up to taunt me first. He would set snipers to surround the building and hope to kill me before I knew I was even in danger. No sane man wants to take a wizard in a straight fight – even if he won, my death curse would kill him or worse.

Marcone grinned softly with an air of resigned patience. "Believe me, I enjoy your presence just as much, Dresden. However, after the most _interesting_ story about you picking up a group of exotically-colored young ladies from Special Investigations crossed my desk I had to have a look for myself. Not only Mr. Futney but all of my subordinates were instructed to inform me if they saw you."

The hair on the back of my neck rose. It would be one thing if this was between us; that was business as usual. If he was here specifically because of the girls, that was something else entirely. I gritted my teeth and glared at him. His smile turned a shade deeper, into something that was almost a smirk. He knew how protective I could be and enjoyed my reaction.

"Sir, if you don't need me any further…" Joseph said, his body language indicating a clear desire to be anywhere else. His thug in the corner was radiating a similar vibe, but knew better than to speak up.

"Stay here, Mr. Futney," Marcone commanded. "It would be very rude of me to interrupt your business just so I could have a word with your customers. Please, continue with your examination of the gems they brought." Joseph slid back into his seat without a word of protest and immediately set to work, more sweat beading on his forehead.

"Now," Marcone continued. "If you'd put away your more juvenile impulses and make introductions, I'd be grateful."

Rarity had frozen at his arrival, and she glanced worriedly at me. I sighed and gave her a quick nod. I rose and gestured for her to do the same. "Rarity, this is 'Gentleman' Johnny Marcone. He runs the criminal underground of Chicago with brutal efficiency. Marcone, this is Rarity. She's a close friend and more dangerous than she appears."

"It's a pleasure," he said, clasping Rarity's hand with both of his and lightly shaking it.

Give Rarity credit, she schooled her face into a polite mask and clasped his hands in return. "I thank you for the compliment." The mask cracked a tiny bit and her confusion showed through. "Excuse me, but you aren't how I thought you would be."

Marcone took one of the remaining seats while Hendricks and Gard continued to loom behind him. I took a seat as well, but I didn't relax, not a bit. Marcone chuckled lightly. "I think you'll find I'm rather personable, provided you haven't crossed me." A touch of darkness glittered in his eyes at that, then it was gone. "And in Dresden's case, I have made a temporary exception because we have been useful to each other in the past, and I anticipate further mutually beneficial arrangements in the future. In the right circumstances, even someone as hard-headed as him can see reason."

"One reason I'd like to see is why you're here," I growled. "Cut the bullshit, John. You didn't come just to chat and introduce yourself."

Marcone raised an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact that's exactly why I came. Well, and to make a few threats."

The gears turned furiously in my head. "You had something to do with Sean's disappearance? Was he working for you?" That would certainly fit in with how his dad had been afraid that Sean had turned to crime to settle his debts.

Marcone's eyes narrowed very slightly, but there wasn't a hint of recognition in his expression. "Believe it or not, Dresden, every unfortunate thing that occurs in this city is not somehow my design. No, I came to warn you not to interfere." His face darkened, but his glare wasn't focused on either of us. "Someone is testing my control over this city, and I will maintain it my way."

I blinked. That was about the last thing I had expected. Things like a gang war or some other challenge weren't exactly easy to keep secret, but I hadn't heard a trace of whatever Marcone was talking about. "If people are being hurt, you know that all the threats you could make will be worthless. I'll step in and end whatever's causing it, with or without your permission." Which might be exactly what he wanted, but it wasn't like he could come and just ask for my help openly. Appearances aside, his pride would never allow it.

"The same holds true for me and my friends," Rarity said, voice quiet but strong. "Twice now Dresden has helped us in our troubles. It would be only fitting if we returned the favor. Though, admittedly, that wasn't how I was planning to spend our vacation."

I scowled. "Rarity, if something is going on, the last thing we need is to get you and the girls involved. If I had died helping you, it would have been sad, but nobody would have come looking for payback. Even putting aside how I feel about you risking yourselves, calling it a 'diplomatic incident' would be an understatement. The– Twilight's mentor would rip this town apart if something happened to any of you."

Rarity shook her head and daintily tucked a curl behind her ear. "And as I've told you before, you don't get to decide who can and can't risk their life. The Princess would understand. After all you've done for us we cannot and will not let you walk into something dangerous alone. Not if there was the faintest chance that we could help."

A light golf clap came from Marcone as he looked on with a wry smile on his face. "Very touching. Ms. Gard?" he asked, glancing back at the better-looking of his bodyguards.

"Ms. Rarity is not human, though I cannot tell what she conceals beneath her disguise. Her magic, although strange, doesn't match what we found, and her speech, mannerisms, and body language are not those of a warrior. I doubt that she was involved."

"You do meet some unique individuals, don't you, Dresden?" Marcone asked, rising from his chair and brushing a miniscule speck of dust from his suit. "As much as I enjoyed this chat, I have business that needs handling."

"What was this really about, Marcone?" I demanded, giving quick glare to Gard. Her expression was inscrutable as she moved to follow her boss. "What was Rarity not involved in?" I had the feeling that we'd been played, but I didn't know how.

"Just another piece of business that doesn't concern you, Dresden. Mr. Futney?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I recall Ms. Rarity mentioning a 'maximum offer' in your notes. That is what you will give our guests for their trouble." He smiled, turning the charm back on like a light switch. "I regret leaving so soon after meeting you, Ms. Rarity, but I must go. Should you find yourself in need of my services in the future, please know that I am open to business with the mundane and supernatural alike, and I'm certain anyone with your good taste and wealth would represent an unique opportunity for investment."

"Thank you, sir," Rarity said with a small curtesy. "But I've been given the choice between the lures of high society and my friends before. I chose my friends then and would not hesitate to make the same choice now."

"A pity," Marcone said, sighing. Then he turned and strode out.

I wanted to give him a parting shot, but nothing good came to mind. I had a sour taste in my mouth. Marcone knew something I didn't, maybe several somethings. But he didn't know everything about what was going on or he wouldn't have been curious about Rarity. Still, he had a leg up on me.

For a brief second I entertained the notion that whatever worried him wouldn't affect me. It's a big city, after all, and purely by the law of averages there should have been at least one crisis where I didn't need to get involved.

Nah, the universe hated me too much to let that happen.

"Is something wrong, Dresden?" Rarity asked.

"Yeah," I said, considering the hints Marcone had dropped. "The problem is, I don't know what."


	6. Chapter 5

Edited by: SilentCarto

Proofreader: Coandco

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, that is Jim Butcher and Hasbro respectively. This story takes place between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files.

Pinkie clawed desperately for breath. Her chest felt like it was wrapped in bands of steel; the pressure was crushing the life out of her.

She fell to the floor gasping. Blinking back tears, she turned towards her friends who did nothing but look on. "I tell Gummy I love him," she whispered as her vision went dark around the edges. "And to never invest in lollipops; that market is for suckers."

"Is she okay?" the salesgirl asked, staring on worriedly.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Pinkie!" Rainbow Dash said, rolling her eyes. "It can't be _that_ tight."

The salesgirl hesitantly reached down and unclipped the torture device spanning Pinkie's chest. Pinkie took in a massive gasp of air. "Freedom!" she breathed, her voice flush with triumph.

The salesgirl still looked uncertain, but picked up the bra. "Okay, we can try going up a cup size, or the same size, but with a looser, more relaxed style." Pinkie glanced down at her heaving chest, then at the salesgirl, then back at her still heaving chest.

"Let's try a larger size," Twilight said, giving the salesgirl an apologetic smile, as if _she_ was the one suffering through this. "Thanks, Monica."

Monica the salesgirl left the little private fitting room, muttering something, and Pinkie giggled.

Twilight arched an eyebrow. "I hope you're having fun."

Pinkie stuck out her tongue. "It _was_ too tight, and she should've known 'cause of how hard it was to get on." But the expression on Monica's face totally made up for that, and Pinkie had another quiet giggle. "Can we hit the candy store on the way back? I'm pretty sure it's in between here and the arcade, so we can go by on our way to get Spike."

Dash yawned enormously and stretched, relaxing as much as she could on the narrow bench. "Depends on when we get done. Dresden said he'd pick us up around, what, nine?"

Twilight checked the pocketwatch that she'd gotten during their shopping. Pinkie had told her to get the wristwatch with the cartoon mouse, but Twilight didn't think that was the best souvenir. Pinkie couldn't see why not. Sure, it wouldn't fit on a pony's wrist, but Twilight had a horn to hang it from. She could totally launch a whole new kind of fashion for unicorns! For some reason Rarity's face had paled when Pinkie suggested that.

"We've got about thirty minutes until then," Twilight said snapping the watch closed. "Not that we need to make another stop there. We've already visited twice."

"Yeah, but I ate all of the first bunch when we were watching the movie. So really, we've only visited once," Pinkie explained slowly. Sometimes her friends didn't seem to get candy-nomics, but she was happy to enlighten them.

Twilight sighed. "Fine, but only if we finish with enough time. Which is only likely to happen if you quit playing around."

Pinkie thrust her chest out and saluted with perfect seriousness, which was completely unmarred by the way Dash laughed. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

Monica brushed the curtain aside and brought in another bra. It was visibly bigger than the other one, and deep pink in color. Pinkie nodded, sagely. "Points for the color, but let's see if it's up to the job." Why they needed these 'bras' Pinkie still wasn't totally clear on, but Molly had insisted and everypony had only been able to put her off for so long.

Monica helped Pinkie into the weird contraption, as Molly stuck her head in. "Are you three done in here, yet?"

"Not quite," Twilight replied. "Mine was fairly easy, but Dash took a while, and Pinkie has been… difficult to fit."

"You could say that again," Monica muttered under her breath.

"Hey, I only took so long because everything she brought me at first was all lacy or flowery. C'mon, can you imagine me wearing that? This sports bra is pretty cool, though. Slick, streamlined, and Monica said I could totally fight in it."

"Do martial arts in it," Twilight corrected.

Dash shrugged. "Yeah, that too."

Molly sighed. Pinkie wondered if it was something about the air here in humanland that made people do that so often. "AJ and Fluttershy were easy enough, but Rarity is about to drive me crazy. She's tried on twenty so far, and she doesn't look to be stopping any time soon."

Pinkie blinked, wondering how anypony would be able be put on twenty of those things. Unless they were like nesting dolls and each one got larger and larger. Ooooooh! Maybe she was going for a world record! Well, two ponies could play at that game. Or they could if going for the record wouldn't make them run out of time for another stop at the candy shop. Pinkie warred internally. There had to be a really awesome, shiny trophy for world records here in humanland - Dresden said there was whole organization with a yearly book dedicated to them. But that sweet, sweet human candy and the high-frustrate corn syrup that made it taste so good…

Pinkie sighed (proving that she was totally right about human air). "I guess Rarity gets the trophy; I'm too devoted to my sweet tooth." Monica stared at her, but the rest of the group, including Molly, didn't even blink.

"How does it fit?" Twilight asked.

Pinkie realized with a start that Monica had finished fitting her, only this time she could breathe. "Hmm," she said, considering it. There was some pressure, especially on the shoulders, but she felt more… balanced, maybe, then she had before. She did a couple of quick stretches and bounces to test it out. The bra held up under the considerable strain, and Molly's face turned a funny shade of red. "We're good to go here. Thanks, Monica!"

"Don't mention it," the salesgirl said, and left in a hurry.

Twilight glanced after her. "I'm glad Rarity paid up front. They might be a 'full service' shop, but I suspect that we've tried their patience enough."

"Nah," Molly said. "This place is good enough to cater to the wealthy without being so high end that rich people respect the staff. Weirdness factor aside, I'm willing to bet they get way worse prima donnas and problem-cases than you six."

"Great, so only Rarity left," Dash said, springing to her feet. She was getting good at moving smoothly in her human body. Pinkie chuckled to herself. Dashie had been so mad when Spike kept beating her at Dance Dance Resolution, even though he had the advantage of walking on two legs for a lot longer. It had taken Applejack to drag her to the bra shop over the shouts of 'one more game!'.

"Let's hurry her up!" Pinkie said. "There's candy waiting and no time to waste!"

Molly put up a hand, and Pinkie slid to a screeching halt, just short of it. "How about you put your clothes back on first," she replied.

Pinkie rolled her eyes. "Puh-leeze, we finally got 'bras' and 'panties' like you wanted, and now we have to wear dresses on top of them too? What's up with that? Why can't I just head out?"

"Well, you could," Molly admitted, "and you'd make all of the guys in sight pretty happy doing it, but you'd embarrass your friends, and you'd give people the wrong idea about what kind of girl you are."

"Fascinating," Twilight said, a notebook out and pen already in her hands. "Dresden already explained that nudity is taken as a sexual display among humans, but even certain choices in the amount or type of clothing could be taken as the same? Please, explain further." Her pen scratched at a fevered pace. Molly took several steps back, but Twilight kept up, peppering her with questions all the while.

Pinkie took the opportunity to sneak by them. She crammed her dress back over her head as she crossed the store. The other fitting rooms were far away 'for privacy', but it was late, and there couldn't have been more than eight, maybe ten, people who saw her. Just for fun she gave a wink to one of the boys that were watching her struggle back into her dress. The girl next to him said something that sounded rude, but Pinkie was already gone. "No time to waste; there's candy on the line!" she shouted, bursting into Rarity's fitting room. Rarity, Fluttershy, and their salesgirl screamed in response, but Applejack just tilted the hat off her face from where she had been napping and sighed. (What was it about human air? Seriously, it was an epidemic!)

"Wondered when you'd run outta patience."

"Pinkie! Really, darling, _must_ you be so uncouth?" Rarity demanded, blushing deeply. She'd really taken human customs to heart. Unfortunately for her, Pinkie's heart was too full of her love for partying, friends, partying, sweets, partying, games, and partying for anything like that.

"Rarity, I am as couth as ever, but you're taking _way_ too long to decide on something silly."

"Silly?" the salesgirl said, crossly. "The undergarments establish the entire foundation of the outfit you wear. Imagine wearing a normal bra with a strapless dress. Or wearing a business skirt without the right hose. Honey, there is _nothing_ 'silly' about it."

Rarity nodded, her expression stern. "Thank you, Rochelle. I'm glad you understand. The rest of my social interactions in this city are utterly dependant on the choices I make here and now, Pinkie. I simply cannot make these decisions in any sort of hurry."

Pinkie swelled with indignation (or whatever the word was, but her cheeks totally puffed out and steam came out her ears) and she was about to 'accidentally' summon her giant mecha and–

"Why don't the rest of us get a move on while you finish up here?" Applejack said. "We can grab Spike, then take another run by the candy shop for Pinkie."

"I like it!" Pinkie declared. "I'll get Spike, and be back in a jiffy." And she was gone before anypony else could say a word.

The human mall was super huge and super neat, but Pinkie had no time for that now. The mall closed at nine o'clock. Dresden said he would be there at nine o'clock to pick them up. So, clearly, she needed to find Spike, bring him back, and then make a run to the candy store, all before nine o'clock.

The arcade was halfway across the mall, but Pinkie made it in no time flat. The flashing lights and fun games called to her, but there was no time to spare. Spike had abandoned the dancing game and was busy racing through the streets of some human city. Or crashing through the streets of some human city. He hit light poles, mailboxes and other stuff often enough that Pinkie had a hard time telling whether he was supposed to do that or not.

"Spike!" she shouted, screeching to a halt beside him. He shot up in surprise, and she took the opportunity to yank him out of the seat. His pockets jingled with the little human coins as she did. "Notimetowastelet'sgo!" She pulled on his hand, making him jingle all the way back, like a big, complaining bell.

"Pinkie!" he shouted, "slow down!"

Then she stopped so suddenly he ran into her. "We're too late." Indeed, Dresden was already there, standing outside the bra store with everypony except Rarity gathered around him. Not fair, he was early.

"You're just in time, Pinkie," Twilight said.

"But I don't _wanna_ go yet," she whined.

Twilight blinked, then rolled her eyes. "Not that, I meant because you brought Spike. We decided that you and Applejack could run by the candy store while Molly waited on Rarity. Dresden will take the rest of us and all of our purchases" –she gestured to the small mountain of bags that were mostly Rarity's– "back to the hotel, then return for you four."

Pinkie gasped in joy. "That's perfect!"

"Aww, can't I stay with Rarity?" Spike asked.

But Twilight just ruffled his hair and smiled. "It's close to your bedtime, and besides, don't you want to help her out by keeping on eye on everything she bought?"

Spike mulled that over and sighed (more proof). "I guess so."

Dresden nodded. "Thanks. I could use your help carrying all this." He picked up a piece of Stuff Mountain and grunted under its weight.

Pinkie sidled up beside him before he could get too far and gave him a quick hug. "Thanks, I'll see you later. C'mon, Applejack, let's get some of Rarity's jewel money and hit up that candy shop!"

…

"Wowee, it sure got dark quick," Pinkie said, blinking at the near empty parking lot. She set down her heavy candy bags and popped the sucker out of her mouth, giving it another lick. The doors behind them locked with a click. The old security guard tottered off, seeking more doors that needed the help of his keys. There wasn't a 'Closed' sign, but locking the doors was a pretty good sign all by itself.

Molly scowled. "It shouldn't be. Something must be wrong with these lights. Look, the ones further out are on."

"Goodness," Rarity breathed, shivering slightly. "Now, I wish they hadn't taken my earlier purchases with them. That burgundy coat with the sandalwood buttons would be simply divine at the moment."

Applejack chuckled. "If you coulda found it in all those bags. I still have a hard time believing Dresden managed to fit all them clothes in that little car."

"Don't worry, Rarity!" Pinkie cried, leaping towards her friend with arms spread wide. She hugged her tight, making Rarity squeak in surprise. "The blazing warmth of my passionate heart will keep us warm!" She paused for a second. "Or was it the passionate warmth of my blazing heart? Something like that anyway."

Rarity's cheeks were already flushed with warmth, and Pinkie gave herself a figurative pat on the back for quick thinking. "Pinkie! This is _mortifying._ I am _not_ a little fil- girl that needs her mother for warmth. And where did you even get such a ludicrous line?"

Pinkie let go, satisfied by a job well done. Rarity's mind certainly wasn't on the cold anymore. "After we watched those Disney movies, I found some late night cartoons. They had normal sized eyes, and normal manes, and it was amazing! Next time we visit Earth, we've gotta hit this 'Tokyo' place."

Molly blinked. "You watched anime?" She groaned, and cradled her head in her hands. "How am I going to explain this to Harry?"

"I dunno either; it was really hard to understand what was going on, but I liked it anyway." She giggled a bit at Molly's expression, and almost missed the faint tingling in her left elbow and the three blinks from her right eye. The giggling stopped immediately, and Pinkie drew in her breath to shout even as the two men in large coats exploded out of the shadows.

They were fast, crazy fast. Faster than a … really fast thing. Pinkie was too distracted for good metaphors right now.

"Behind you!" she shouted. Molly's mouth turned into an 'o' of surprise and she started to turn but she was too slow. Huge, spidery hands clutched her wrists and another one closed over her mouth, cutting off the scream.

This close up, Pinkie could see the men, and they were ugly with a capital 'Ugh'. Her mommy Pie always told her not to be rude about things like that, but they were seriously bad looking on level that Pinkie had to wonder if they were even human.

Without a word they turned to leave, dragging Molly with them, but Applejack was already on them. She'd been the furthest away, but her reflexes and flying leap had eaten up that distance like a hot fudge sundae. Her fist shot forward and buried itself in one of the men, and he went flying, too. Until he smacked into the wall, that is.

The other man twisted with a growl, still moving crazy fast, and punched Applejack in the side with the hand that wasn't holding Molly. There was a quiet crack, and she slid back a few steps, her face fighting back pain.

Then the man's belt snaked out off of his pants, circled his hands and suddenly cinched together. A blue glow surrounded Rarity's hands and the coat suddenly squeezed him tight as a straitjacket.

Mr. Ugly didn't like that. He growled and the hand around Molly's wrist closed with bone-crushing force. Which made the rubber duck that he found there let out a shrill and desperate squeak.

Pinkie let a single tear fall at the brave sacrifice of Sir Mallard of Quacksbury as she hurried Molly away from the fight. The poor girl was frozen in fear, and though she wasn't crying, her eyes were getting themselves ready for the waterworks to start.

Seams all along Mr. Ugly's coat began to burst and break as he strained against it. He managed to bring the thick leather belt up to his mouth and Pinkie saw sharp teeth flash as he began to chew through it. The one Applejack punched was back, and he didn't even bother helping his friend, making a straight dash for Molly. Applejack was back too, but he ducked her swinging punch and kept coming.

Until his face slammed into the stop sign Pinkie suddenly planted in the ground. She blew her whistle at him adjusted her very serious Policewoman's hat, and shining her already shiny badge. "Can't you read?" she asked, pointing pointedly at the sign.

Claws sprang out of the tips of his fingers, and with a swipe he cut right through the sign's metal post. "Uh… I guess not," she quipped, snatching up the sign and using it to bat away another swipe aimed at her head. Mr. Ugly Sr. left gouges in the metal.

"Hey," Pinkie said as she parried a couple more swipes that tooks more pieces out of her sign, "you should really look behind you."

Mr. Ugly Sr. didn't take his mean little eyes off her for even a second. Which let Applejack charge in and drop to her hands, delivering a massive kick into the small of his back. She lost her balance and fell to the ground, but he was already flying forward, right into a sweeping uppercut from Pinkie's sign that lifted him off the ground. "Can't say I didn't warn you," she said with a shrug.

"A little help would be appreciated!" Rarity yelled, as Mr. Ugly Jr. finally bit all the way through the belt, and ripped off the coat completely. Without it, Pinkie could see how weird he really looked. His long, yellow teeth were set in a jaw that was too wide and long to be human. His chest was covered in spiky, wiry hair. His shoulders were too broad and weirdly hunched, leading to arms that were covered in twisted muscle and too long at the ends. He let out a surprisingly quiet roar and charged Rarity.

He passed right through the image, almost rolling like a bowling ball, but he just managed to catch himself. Or would have, except the remains of his coat wrapped around his ankles, and sent him into a perfect faceplant. His face slammed into the ground, but nothing fazed him. With another growl he reached towards his feet, slashing through the heavy fabric easily with his claws. But when he turned back, Applejack was waiting for him.

"I've still got some things to learn 'bout kicking with only two legs," Applejack admitted, "but I can stomp easy 'nuff." Her boot rose, then flashed down. Mr. Ugly Jr. jerked aside at the last moment and the concrete shattered beneath the stomp. Applejack moved with it, putting her weight on the foot she had just stomped with and raising the other one. He scrambled away from that one too, but she followed, leaving a line of craters until she caught his leg. It broke with a loud, wet snap, and Pinkie flinched.

Applejack's face turned a little green, and she took a step back. "Can't say I enjoyed that, but it serves you right for tryin' to make off with our friend like that. Now, what made you–" but then she had to jump back as he lunged forward, trying to bite her. Using the temporary breather, he scuttled over to Mr. Ugly Sr. on three limbs and shook him.

Mr. Ugly Sr. stirred at the motion, then both eyes shot open. He leapt to his feet, glaring at them. Mr. Ugly Jr. stayed crouching low, looking more beastial than ever. Rarity's hands were covered in blue light, and Applejack took a fighting stance.

"Harmony! Laughter! Transformation, go!" Pinkie cried, stretching her hand in the air and waiting for the magical sparkles to change her clothing and give her a super cool monster fighting weapon. Nothing happened, which wasn't even close to right. She'd struck the pose exactly right and everything.

"Pinkie, did you get _any_ sleep last night?" Applejack asked in disbelief, careful not to take her eyes off the equally confused monster guys.

Pinkie Pie laughed the laugh of the just. What a silly pony that Applejack was. Who needed sleep when you had twenty-four hour TV and all the sugar you could eat?

Mr. Ugly Sr. took the opportunity and darted forward. Rarity's hands flashed brighter, but he ripped his entire coat off in one fluid movement as he came, letting it crumple in on itself. Applejack stepped forward to meet his charge. He was a big guy, but she dug in her heels. When he hit, she slid back two inches, maybe three. Maybe two-and-a-half. She'd need a tape measure to be sure. He looked surprised, and then it was Applejack's turn. She put hands on his chest and shoved.

Muscles bunched beneath her shirt, tearing seams along the arms, and her boot dug even deeper into the ground. Mr. Ugly Sr. went flying first class on the Applejack Express and didn't stop until he slammed into a light pole, leaving a visible dent in it.

There was a scream, and Mr. Ugly Jr. pulled Molly out of thin air. Rarity's thick cloth belt shot across the parking lot and wound around his throat, squeezing tightly. "Let go of her you, brute!" Rarity cried, sweat beading on her forehead. But the blue glow around her hands was starting to flicker. Looked like Twilight as right (not that Pinkie was surprised), and Rarity was running out of magic way faster as a human.

Mr. Ugly Jr. kept one hand on Molly, but the other was fighting to keep the belt from choking him. Pinkie frowned as she thought, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth. It was time to get serious.

"Party Time!" she declared, slipping a blindfold over Mr. Ugly Jr,'s eyes.

"How did you–" Molly started to say, but a rough jerk from a rough jerk cut her off.

Mr. Ugly Jr.'s nostrils flared and he twisted his head in Pinkie's direction. His mouth opened super wide, and he lunged to bite her. Until she stuffed a huge cake right down it. He gagged on the mouthful of sugary goodness and spilled cake everywhere.

"Tsk," Pinkie tutted disapprovingly. "And people say that _I'm_ a messy eater."

He finished coughing up the cake, and finally let go of Molly's hand to yank off the blindfold. Rarity cried out and the belt stopped glowing, letting him rip that away too. He blinked, probably because there was a great, big barrel about four inches from his face.

Pinkie grinned widely from the other end of her weapon. Combining a Party Cannon with her Cupcake Launcher (patent pending) had been a stroke of genius. "And what party is complete without the decorations?"

The Party Launcher (also patent pending, no matter how many rejections those office ponies tried to give her) went off with a flash of light and sound as streamers, confetti, banners, and all the fixings a party needed exploded out of the barrel. Mr. Ugly Jr. let out a really high-pitched shriek and scrabdoodled off on three limbs again.

Pinkie reloaded the Party Launcher (no seriously, it's totally safe for indoor use) with an ominous 'ka-chak' and Applejack stepped up next to her, cracking her knuckles. Molly stayed back, being comforted by Rarity.

Applejack snorted. "We done here, or do we gotta kick your butts some more?" Mr. Ugly Sr. and Jr. were picking themselves up, but keeping a safe distance. Mr. Ugly Sr. was moving slowly and with a slight limp; Mr. Ugly Jr. still moved on three limbs and kept pausing to rub his eyes with small, dog-like whines.

The standoff was interrupted by the sound of a putt-putting car engine, and Pinkie turned in surprise to see Dresden's little rainbow car scooting across the parking lot towards them. Mr. Ugly Sr. growled deep and low, but Mr. Ugly Jr. let out a panicked yelp and made for the hills. Mr. Ugly Sr., growled again, glaring at Applejack, then he said something in a weird-sounding language and followed his friend at a slow lope.

"Whew," Pinkie said, wiping away some sweat. She had apparently swallowed her sucker whole at some point without realizing it, but at least the rest of her candy was safe in its bags. Nobody had kicked it, or tripped over it or anything. "That was an adventure and a half. How's everybody holding up?"

Molly started crying, burying her face into Rarity's shoulder.

Pinkie grin disappeared. "So, uh, not good, huh?"

The Dresden-mobile came to a stop next to them, and Dresden popped out of the driver's seat, staff and rod at the ready. His face looked like pure anger, deeper and harder than anything Pinkie had ever seen in him. He watched the fleeing monsters, and she could tell he was tempted to run after and _end_ them, even if it meant abandoning the four of them for a moment. But a fresh sob rocked Molly, and his expression softened, a flicker of guilt shooting behind his eyes.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked.

"I might have a cracked rib, and I figure Molly's gonna have some bruises on her wrists, but otherwise we're pretty much okay," Applejack replied, stretching and grimacing when she touched her side.

"I also lost that darling new belt I purchased earlier," Rarity said, holding Molly close. "Though, I suppose the fatigue from overworking my magic might be the bigger problem."

"What _were_ those guys?" Pinkie asked, popping open the storage area of Dresden's car and tossing her candy inside. Except for one happy-face sucker, which she covertly pressed into Molly's hands.

"Describe them," Dresden said, taking Molly from Rarity and helping her to the car. She had stopped crying, but she still shook and didn't look okay.

All three ponies started speaking at once, but Pinkie's voice was the loudest, since she clearly had the best description. Dresden growled, and rubbed his temple. "Ghouls. That was about what I figured. They're the cheap muscle of supernatural world. Strong, fast, and harder to kill than a cockroach." He bit out the last bit, and some of that serious anger poured back into his expression.

"I'm feeling like you've run into'em a time or two," Applejack said. They'd all squeezed into the backseat, and with one last glance around Dresden putted off.

"You'd be right," he said, and the conversation went quiet after that. Pinkie wanted to make a joke, to turn his frown upside down, but the mood didn't feel right. "Tell me the whole story," he continued. "What happened after I left?"

They took it in turns, filling him in, except Molly, who stayed quiet. Dresden asked a question here and there, but mostly he just listened. Eventually, they reached Molly's house. Dresden walked her up to the door and took her inside. It took a few minutes, and it sounded like there was some yelling, but soon enough he came back outside.

"Is Molly going to be all right?" Rarity asked, fiddling with her jewelry. Pinkie nodded, feeling her hair droop a bit.

Dresden sighed. "Yeah, she'll make it. She just… doesn't handle combat well. She's a Sensitive, and in a high-stress situation like that she feels everything that happens to each person. Pain, fear, anger, bloodlust, all of it. She hasn't learned to filter it out yet." His eyes hardened with anger again. "It's pretty clear that they were looking to capture her, and her specifically, while I wasn't around. Looks like somebody isn't happy about my investigations into Sean's disappearance. Or that competition Marcone is fighting heard about our meeting, and figured I was working for him now. Either way, they just made a fatal mistake."

Pinkie could recognize somebody waiting for the set up to a hard-boiled one-liner and gladly obliged. "How?"

Dresden's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white, as fire danced in his eyes. "They made this personal."

…

The last of the marrow was deep in the bone, but Ouroborous relished hunting it out. She snapped the other end and sucked down the delicious substance until it was gone. Then she tossed both parts of the cow's femur into her mouth and crushed them with a contented sigh. The humans had done well domesticating the mighty aurochs into these dumb livestock. They ran and bellowed at her arrival, but none put up half the fight she would have once expected.

Perhaps when she was whole, such a weakened prey would be disappointing, but in the moment it was a convenience that she was happy to take advantage of. She continued stripping the carcass of every scrap of useable meat, enjoying herself as she added another drop to the aching void in her belly. The meanest of her powers had begun to return and she had healed off the damage from the human guardian's 'gun'. Yet, despite dozens of meals, she was still so hungry. Once, she had eaten entire herds in a single snap of her jaws as a mere snack.

She noticed the shadowy shapes moving in the woods around her, and smelled that they were not human, although they pretended to be. Growling, she swallowed her current mouthful and turned to face the largest of them. "Away, scavengers," she commanded. "There will be nothing left for you, not even the bones, such is my hunger."

"I am uninterested in taking your meal from you," said one of the others. He stepped into the clearing, his smile broad and utterly false, though he did not seem to be lying about his interest in her food. "You have been busy, haven't you? A clear trail of missing livestock all the way from Minnesota to here." He chuckled. "With all the dairy farms in Wisconsin, a monster like you must have been quite pleased."

Ouroborous swallowed her latest mouthful, keeping a careful eye on the enemies that encircled her. She could kill them all if she needed to, but it would be noisy and she would not escape without injury. Best to bide her time at the moment. "And what kind of monster am I?" she asked. Did this fool actually know who he taunted?

The false-man shrugged. "An ancient wendigo, a disguised baykok, or some such thing. Really, it doesn't matter for my purposes."

"And what are 'your purposes'?" Ouroborous asked, enjoying the tiniest flinch of fear in his eyes as her teeth cut through bone as easily as apple flesh.

"There is a wizard in Chicago poking into certain things that he should not. I have tried to divert his attention once already, and it ended in failure. It is important that I take an indirect approach so he never knows my true means or intent until it is too late. That's where you enter the game. You are a wild, rampaging creature without connection to me or my interests. Having you dog his heels will allow me to proceed unopposed."

Ouroborous snorted. "And yet you neatly danced around why I am the one you chose. There are plenty of creatures that could serve your purpose."

"Ah, but none so powerful as you, and none that I have leverage over."

Her eyes narrowed into slits, and a rumbling growl rose in her throat. "Leverage?"

"Indeed. You should have been more careful in your choice of feeding. One of the herds you decimated belonged to the Green Lady, and she is most furious. You are lucky we found you first, as she is hot upon your trail."

"The Green Lady?" Ouroborous asked, taking another bite of the cow. None of the humans she had eaten possessed much knowledge of the hidden world, the true world. The name was unfamiliar to her.

A frown crossed the false-man's face, but he smoothed it away. "The Green Lady, high Sidhe of the Seelie Court, vassal to Titania, Queen of the Summer Fae."

Ouroborous stopped in her eating, a mouthful of meat half chewed. She swallowed it, heedless of the pain to her throat. Titania was Queen now? Brutal, passionate Lady Titania who had helped her Queen, Mother, and Winter cousins seal away Ouroborous? The same who would recognize her instantly, without regard for the passage of years?

She found herself grasping the false-man by his throat, raising him off the ground. "Titania's hounds and lackeys hunt me?" she asked, feeling the first real fear since she had finally broken into this lush, bountiful world. She was not ready for that confrontation, not for centuries would she be ready!

The others drew weapons and moved forward, but the false-man raised his hand and they lowered their weapons. "Exactly," he said, smirking down at her fear. "Now put me down, and prepare to accompany us back to Chicago. We must erase your trail before the Green Lady comes hot on your scent, and we have no time to waste."

Ouroborous scowled, her features twisting into a mask of hatred. "I am _not_ your dog to be commanded."

The false-man sneered, unconcerned with her. "Then you will die the hands of the Fae. Obeying me is the only way you will live out the night, much less the coming weeks." His eyes flickered with something dark, hungry, and possessive. "Now, do as I say and _put me down_."

Reluctantly, she did as he said. Her disgrace and disgust was palpable, but at least for the moment she had to bear it. Soon enough her strength would return, and then they would pay

Oh, how they would pay.


	7. Chapter 6

Edited by: SilentCarto

Proofreader: Coandco

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files or My Little Pony, that is Jim Butcher and Hasbro respectively. This story takes place between books Eight and Nine in the Dresden Files.

I arrived at the hotel with Pinkie, Rarity, and Applejack in tow a little before ten. They seemed surprisingly calm after being ambushed by a pair of ghouls. If anything, they were more concerned for Molly than anything that happened to them.

"And you're sure you'll be okay?" I asked, handing Applejack the key card to their room.

She chuckled, wincing slightly at the movement. "Don't you worry. A good night's sleep and a day of rest'll patch me up good enough. Just don't start any fights until the day after tomorrow."

"Hey," I replied, holding up my hands defensively. "I'm never the one who _starts_ the fight."

"Nope, but you've sure got a habit of finishing them," Pinkie said, hopping out of the car and giggling.

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue. I mean, it wasn't like she was wrong. "Okay, I'll be back at eight in the morning with a rented van big enough for the group. A couple of my friends promised to keep you girls out of trouble and help with the sight-seeing."

Rarity paused, while stepping out of my car. "You don't want our help in your investigation?"

"Not right now," I told her bluntly. "Most of what I'm doing is questioning people, and none of you know enough about my world to be helpful there." That earned me a pout from Pinkie, but Rarity and Applejack gave half-hearted nods of acceptance. "If I run into a situation that needs your talents I won't hesitate to ask." Which was a blatant lie, because I sure as Hell would hesitate over anything that might put them in danger, helpful or not. "But until then you guys should enjoy your vacation."

Pinkie sighed. "I guess so."

Rarity gave a small, somehow decorous, yawn. "If you'll excuse me, a lady needs her beauty sleep. Until tomorrow, Dresden."

"See ya!" Pinkie shouted, waving goodbye. Applejack just gave me a nod and all three headed into the hotel. I waved back, and fired up the Blue Beetle. I hadn't told any of them, but my investigating for the night wasn't over just yet.

After getting the girls set up in their hotel room, I had spent most of the day at the University of Chicago checking out people who might have known more about Sean. I managed to grab a quick chat with his advisor, a matronly middle-aged lady named Ms. Sweitzer. She reported that he had seemed less and less involved on campus recently. The last time she had seen him was two weeks ago, when he turned in one of his projects with 'less enthusiasm than usual'. Ms. Switzer thought that Sean had a 'real gift for wordplay but an inability to accept criticism that left him creatively shackled'. I translated that to mean that he had his head up his ass. Not too uncommon for guys his age.

Surprisingly, plenty of people in the music department seemed to know him. The general reaction was summed up best by a kid wearing headphones and a pair of shorts with more pockets than your average utility belt: "Oh, _that_ guy?" It seemed Sean had made plenty of waves, if not many friends. Most of his acquaintances hadn't seen him for a while, even before he disappeared. One girl, who sported hair down to the small of her back that was dyed in colors that reminded me of Rainbow's do, told me that he had a proud streak a mile wide, and she'd gotten on his bad side for 'unjust criticism' of one composition. She was by no means the only one who described him in such terms. A thin, pale guy in black just sneered and walked away.

The best info I got from the trip was a lead on his former band. I hadn't gotten to meet with any of them, but they were apparently all fellow University students, because homemade flyers for 'Heir of the Dog' were on every bulletin board in the music department. They were playing at a bar tonight, and I figured on having a word between sets. Even if they didn't know anything about Sean's disappearance, I could at least warn them and leave a business card.

My other errand at the University was a lot quicker. I checked in with the Alphas, Chicago's only band of vigilante werewolves. They patrolled the neighborhood around the University and kept the place pretty safe from both supernatural threats and mundane crime. Werewolves, with certain cursed exceptions, aren't heavyweights in the supernatural world, but they had solid teamwork, experience, and the wisdom to back off from any fight they couldn't handle alone.

Sean's apartment was on the edge of the Alpha's territory, so I was hoping, though not expecting, that they had seen or heard something. Will and Georgia, the married couple that led the pack, didn't know anything, but they promised to check with the rest of the Alphas. Given my luck, they probably wouldn't turn up much. On the plus side, Will had promised to search Sean's laptop for clues and arrange for some of the group to chaperone the girls around tomorrow if I found a lead to follow.

I shook myself out of my thoughts as I pulled up on the bar where Sean's former bandmates were playing. The Crazy Gecko wasn't a dive bar, even if it kind of looked like one. It was a only a couple of blocks from the University and was a big enough part of Chicago's local music scene that even I'd heard of it. The place was jumping despite the wallet-gouging cover charge and the fact that it was Wednesday night. With my significant height advantage, I managed get the bartender's attention and snag a beer. It was a local craft brew, not bad, but drinking Mac's ambrosia has spoiled me for other beers. I scanned the room and quickly located an out-of-the-way table that put my back to the wall where I could watch both the band and front door.

I'll say this for 'Heir of the Dog': when they picked a theme, they stuck to it. All three members were wearing spiked leather collars with dogtags and studded leather cuffs at the wrists. When the long-haired guitarist/lead singer smiled at the crowd, I could see that he also had long acrylic canines. At least, I figured they were acrylic. It would be pretty embarrassing if these guys turned out to be supernatural when I hadn't even seriously considered that possibility. The other two band members were a dour-looking keyboardist wearing a mohawk and wire-cage muzzle and a chunky drummer in a dog-faced mask and a shirt depicting wolves howling at a full moon.

I sipped my beer and checked out the rest of the room. Most of the audience was college students, including a few obvious fraternity and sorority members. The band seemed to have a few fans, or at least people that were obviously listening to them instead of talking to each other. How anyone could have a conversation over all the noise was beyond me. I made my beer last, but it was long gone by the time 'Heir of the Dog' stopped for a break.

There was some scattered applause after their final riff died out and the lead singer nodded to the crowd. "Thank you! We're gonna hit the john, chug a beer and then we'll be back for more ladies and gentledudes." That earned him some laughter and a couple rude suggestions from a few of the drunker guys. I was already moving by that point, having gotten up as soon as they stopped playing. I waited off to the side of the small stage as they put their instruments in order.

"Excuse me," I said as they moved to walk past me. "I'm looking for Sean Belfast. Have any of you heard from him recently?"

The keyboardist rolled his eyes. "Jeez, now the debt agencies are sending out guys after him? Sorry, haven't seen him."

I shook my head. "I'm not with any company. I'm a private investigator hired by Sean's father. He's gone missing."

The lead singer grinned. "Hell, given the rent on that apartment, I'd disappear too if I was locked into a lease like him." Then his face grew serious. "But he didn't even tell his dad he was going?"

"Not only that," I continued, "nothing was missing from his apartment. Not money, clothing, his instrument, or his song-writing notebooks."

That took each of them by surprise. The drummer murmured, "Oh, shit," under his breath and took off his mask. The keyboardist removed his muzzle.

The lead singer ran his fingers through his hair, actually looking worried. "Okay, there's a green room in the back where we can talk. It isn't much, but it better than shouting out here." He moved deeper into the building and I followed. He was right; the green room wasn't much. My bedroom is barely large enough for my bed, but this place was smaller. Still, it had enough chairs, so I settled into one as the drummer shut the door behind us, dulling the noise of the bar to a low roar.

The lead singer nodded in approval and took a seat himself. "How can we help? Oh, and I'm Simon, the sour one is Keith, and the fat one is Paul."

Paul went for a scowl, but it looked more like a pout. "It's Mastiff, not Paul," he whined. "And I'm not fat, I'm just a bit hefty."

"Shut up, Paul," Keith said, in a tone of voice that told me this was far from the first time he'd said it.

I ignored the byplay and offered my hand to Simon. "I'm Harry Dresden. Thanks for your help."

Simon blinked. "Weren't you on the Larry Fowler show that one time?" I fought the urge to roll my eyes, but that did tell me something useful. None of these three were involved in the real supernatural scene. If they were, they would have immediately recognized my name from something other than that stupid TV show. Plus, they'd probably be afraid of me. For some reason, that tends to happen.

"Yeah, once. So, when's the last time any of you heard from Sean?"

They glanced at each other, thinking about it. Keith spoke up first. "Almost two months ago. He wasn't happy with the way things in the band were going. He felt that none of us were taking things seriously enough. Don't get me wrong, we all love the band, but nobody except Sean ever thought we were going to 'get discovered' and make this our career. Paul and I aren't even Music majors, and Simon's working to become a voice coach."

"He took things uber-serious," Paul added. "Everything had to be perfect with him. Plus, he was kind of a hipster, hating on any music that wasn't 'artistic' enough."

Simon nodded. "Yeah, though things didn't get bad until we had a band meeting about our songs. The dude could write lyrics like nobody's business, I've gotta give him that, but his music…"

"Sucked," Keith finished bluntly. "He couldn't write a decent riff to save his ass. We worked out a compromise where Simon would write the music first and Sean would add lyrics, or Sean would write the lyrics and Simon would re-work the music. That worked for a while, but Sean was never really happy with it. He just refused to accept that he was no good at composing."

"To be fair," Paul added, "we probably shouldn't have been drinking during the meeting. That's probably why things got so heated."

I chuckled wryly. "Yeah, I can't see how that could've gone wrong."

"To quote him, 'You fucking plebs will never appreciate my genius, so I quit!' My response of, 'If you had any genius to appreciate we wouldn't be having this fucking conversation!' sealed the deal," Simon said. "I kinda regret saying that, but at the same time, he wasn't the best bandmate." He shook his head. "Still, I can't imagine him leaving behind his bass or his books. Those things were everything to him."

Looked like my earlier supposition about the relative position of Sean's ass and head were correct. "So, you all knew about the amount of debt he was under?"

"Yeah," Keith replied. "He bitched about his dad and their fight often enough, and we knew he wasn't pulling down that much money with us. Plus, he spent like his dad was still bankrolling him, and his apartment was damned expensive. Paul even offered him a spot in this three bedroom he was getting with another guy, but Sean stuck to his fancy place. The man just could _not_ be fiscally responsible, despite my best advice." I stared at him for moment, and he sighed. "I'm getting a Bachelor's in Accounting. I don't know why that always surprises people."

It was difficult, but I fought keep my comments to myself. I still had more questions to ask and it was only professional. "Yeah," I agreed, "what modern-day accountant _doesn't_ wear a mohawk and dog collar?" Oops.

Keith glared, but the other two members of the band laughed. Paul had a laugh like a hyena, that did more to dissuade me from more jokes than any glare from Keith. I decided to keep the questions rolling. "So did any of you hear about Sean getting a new job?"

Simon shook his head. "He didn't have one when we were in the band, and I haven't spoken to him since." Keith and Paul nodded in agreement.

"Did anyone ever approach him after a show or ask any of you about him after he left?"

Keith rubbed his chin. "You get guys that want to talk music after a lot of shows – that's how the music scene is around here – but I don't remember anybody grabbing him for a private chat. People liked the lyrics, though, he usually got questions about that."

Paul snorted. "He'd act like he was top dog anytime he got those compliments." Then he grinned like he'd just told the funniest joke in the world.

Keith made a disgusted face, and Simon just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, ignoring that. Anyway, nobody's come asking about him until you."

I frowned. "Are you still singing some of the songs he wrote? Especially the supernatural themed ones?"

I got nods from the group. "Yep, I did the music so we've got at least half-claim on them. Sean could play them too if he wanted and we wouldn't mind. He's got just as much of a claim," Simon said. Then his eyes widened as he made connections. I really, _really_ regret doing the Larry Fowler show. And not just because that jerk is still trying to sue me for all of the damage my magic did to his studio equipment. "Wait, you mean his dad thinks that some _thing_ made off with him? And he hired you because you're a psychic detective? No way!"

The urge to facepalm was strong but I resisted it. "His father hired me because I have a history of getting results. That's all. I don't think he ran, so I'm trying to find a motive, any motive, for someone to make him disappear."

"I guess," Simon said, but he still looked suspicious. Keith just looked skeptical, and Paul looked entertained.

I fished a business card out of my pocket and handed it to him. "I'll be checking on other leads, but if he contacts you or someone asks about him, please give me a call." I hesitated. If they were still playing those songs, there was the chance that they could still be involved. Telling someone flat out that a 'mythical' creature might come looking for them doesn't tend to pan out. People who believe will get scared and do something stupid. Most people will just think you're nuts. "And if some _thing_ ," I said, matching Simon's emphasis, "weird happens or someone seems a little _too_ interested in your songs, let me know about that too."

Simon seemed surprised but took the card, Keith just looked bored. "Great, now can we piss? My bladder is about to pop."

"Thanks for your time, guys," I said, opening the door and wading back into the crowd. I kept an eye out as I did, but no one seemed to pay any special attention to me or make any suspicious movements. Of course, if I was being watched by anyone good at their job, I wasn't likely to spot them that easily anyway. I put my well-justified paranoia on the back-burner for now. I had another appointment this evening, and it wouldn't be wise to show up late.

…

Chicago has some surprisingly big parks, some large enough to be small forests. In the middle of one, you could almost forget you were in a major city. You could feel truly alone, far from the noise and roads, surrounded by the sound of trees whispering in the wind. The only real difference was the neatly maintained hiking trails and the darkness of the night sky. There was too much light pollution here to see the stars like out in the real country.

I checked my watch and saw that both hands were almost aligned on the twelve. Midnight. Damned supernatural jackasses always had to do things like that. It couldn't be 11:45, or 12:15. It had to be some time with deep and vast portent or some nonsense.

Still, I couldn't complain too much. I had been lucky to get this meeting at all.

Wendigos were secretive, but they still left channels for contact within the supernatural world. They weren't completely cut off from the political scene, just isolated. I had asked for a meeting with their representative on Accorded Neutral Ground. I had been hoping that we'd meet at Mac's, but didn't really expect that they'd go for even a semi-public place like that. Their reply had agreed to the meeting, but demanded a suitably isolated location. The message promised safe passage, and most creatures of legend were dead set on keeping their word. However, if they had it out for me, there were any number of loopholes they could probably find. Just for example, letting one of my enemies know when and where I'd be in an isolated location.

So, it was no accident that I had come armed and kept a careful watch on the woods surrounding me.

I spotted him walking down the trail towards the clearing with only a few seconds to go until the promised time. I knew it was my contact, even though to all appearances he looked like a perfectly normal was something in his walk, in his utter disregard for the darkness and late hour, that set him apart. Even when an owl screeched and took flight only feet away from him, he did not flinch. Why should he show fear? He was not prey; he was the hunter.

"Good evening. How you been?" he asked, in a perfect Chicago-native accent. All of the immortals and long-lived creatures I've ever met sounded at least a hundred years out of date when they spoke. Even most of the older wizards didn't keep up very well with how language changed. It made it all the more bizarre that I was talking to a creature that had probably been alive before Chicago was so much as a dinky trading outpost, and yet he sounded like he had been born and raised here not more than forty years ago.

Unlike a lot of the supernatural creatures I deal with, Wendigos aren't immigrants to Chicago. Algonquin stories about them go back a dozen centuries or more. They start off as spirits that infect a normal person, digging down deep into their psyche. The victim is driven to extreme greed and hunger, always wanting more, never satisfied. If they aren't exorcised in time, they turn to murder and cannibalism, completing the transformation and becoming a full-fledged Wendigo. Most Wendigos can't control their hunger and immediately go on a destructive rampage that ends in their death. Any Wendigo more than a few years old has the strength and willpower to be a major threat. Especially given their ability to near-perfectly disguise themselves by reverting to their human form. There are still Wendigo-hunters among some traditional Native Americans and most other supernatural predators don't like Wendigos on their turf, so any still living have developed cunning and secretive natures in addition to their shapeshifting. It's more than a little unpleasant to think that anyone on the street could be a monster barely keeping its desire to eat you in check.

"I'm fine," I answered cautiously. I straightened myself and gestured to the plastic cooler sitting beside me. "I brought a small token of my respect." He nodded and gestured for me to open it, clearly not trusting me any more than I did him. I flipped the lid open, revealing three plucked, but ungutted and uncooked turkeys.

A slow smile spread across his face, getting wider and wider than was possible for any human mouth. "Thank you, Wizard," he said, the modern accent discarded like an old hat. He sniffed the air and made a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr. "You were even considerate enough to leave in all of their delectable organ meat."

I've seen shapeshifting before and most of the time it's so quick that if you blink you'll miss it. Whether by nature or design, the Wendigo was not that fast when changing forms. An elk's muzzle pushed out from his human face, teeth growing and sharpening as stains and chips appeared. He reached for the cooler even though it was several feet away, his arms lengthening until it was in his grasp. Plain clothing melted into his skin as white fur sprang up. His legs twisted in a direction no human legs were meant to go and began to grow long and thick, ending wide, clawed paws. Antlers sprang from his head like trees growing in a time-lapse film. His skin stretched taut over his growing body, outlining the bones underneath. Along with the nauseating transformation, a putrid smell rolled out that made me glad my dinner had been many hours ago.

He settled back on his haunches, yet still towered over me. Standing erect he was probably better than twelve feet tall. He dangled one turkey over his mouth then snapped his jaws forward, taking half of it in a single bite. He gave a pleased rumble as he chewed. I waited for him to finish, still keeping a wary eye on my surroundings just in case. He swallowed then nodded. "Ask your questions, Wizard."

"Do you know anything about a mortal named Sean Belfast?"

He pondered for a moment popping the other half of the turkey into his mouth and munching on it as he thought. The snapping bones almost made it sound like he was eating carrot sticks. "That name means nothing to me. Why do you ask?"

I studied his face as he answered, but it's hard to tell much from a fanged deer head with pupil-less yellow eyes. "He has disappeared after creating songs that held truth about your kind. I was asked by his father to discover what happened to him."

"Ah," the Wendigo said. "A reasonable suspicion then." He reached for another turkey, bit off the head, and squeezed it like an orange, draining the blood down into his open mouth. He licked his lips, smearing more blood around them than he removed.

I felt sweat drip down the back of my neck. Not only was he surprisingly unconcerned with what basically amount to an accusation of murder, but his eating habits seemed intended to unnerve me. Well, congrats to him, because they were creepy as hell. Still, this wasn't the worst monster I'd faced, not by a long shot, and backing down isn't my thing. "Nice Ozzie impression, you should've opened with that," I snarked. "I know my suspicion is reasonable, that's why I approached you about it."

"And what did you expect to learn?" he asked, leering at me. "I've told you that I know nothing of that mortal. Even if I did, do you imagine that I'd admit it to you?"

I frowned, mostly because he had something of a point. "Then why did you agree to meet with me?"

"Partly because I knew you would bring me something to eat. But mostly, because I wanted to see you for myself. You are such a young wizard to have so fearsome a reputation." He stuffed the drained turkey into his mouth and swallowed it whole, no chewing. "I can see why. Courteous to a point, yet solid as stone and fierce as fire underneath." His blood-stained mouth twisted into a fanged smirk. "It is well that I had nothing to do with the disappearance of your mortal."

"And you'd be willing to swear to that?" I asked, taking a step forward. "Swear upon your power and honor? If you're telling me the truth then it wouldn't be any trouble to do." Which was and wasn't true. Supernatural creatures _hate_ being forced into committing themselves to their words. Getting any kind of promise, no matter how unimportant, is like pulling teeth from them.

He froze with his hand halfway to the cooler. Then his eyes narrowed. "Wendigos have no honor, only hunger. But even so, to give my word is not something lightly done." He grabbed the final turkey out of the cooler, and bit it in half, never taking his eyes off of me.

I knew how this game went. That wasn't a refusal, that was an invitation to make an offer. "What do you want?"

He stuffed the last of the turkey into his mouth, and chewed quickly. "Three humans and a horse. All skinned but ungutted."

I snorted. He was trying to get under my skin, asking for that. I didn't give him the satisfaction. "Get real. I'll buy you a side of beef if meat is what you want."

"Two deer, skinned but ungutted, and a dozen meat-lover's pizzas. That is the least I deserve for my time and trouble."

I blinked at that. "Really?"

He was entirely serious as he nodded. "I have heard the Small Folk talk about your provision of pizza. It is a less than traditional offering, but something I enjoy nonetheless."

Huh, I guess just about everything liked pizza. Goes to show you. "I didn't figure Wendigos for eating anything other than raw meat."

"That is our preference," he admitted then grinned unpleasantly. "But there is _so much_ food to be found otherwise. This is a time of bounty, with food overflowing, requiring barely an effort to be taken. All-you-can-eat buffets dot the city, plying us with plate after plate. Enough food to quiet even our stomachs for a brief time. Even as the mortals fatten themselves, we sate our own gluttony as they stroke their own." He spoke quietly, but with a fervent energy, and honestly, it was even weirder than the earlier bits with the turkeys. I had expected something like that, at least.

"Ooookay," I said. "I agree to your terms. Now, swear that you knew nothing of Sean's disappearance."

"I swear by my power that I knew nothing of the disappearance of a mortal named Sean Belfast. If any of my kind did this deed, they did it alone, without telling anyone," he said. He tossed the cooler to my feet and yawned enormously. "Now, it's time that I got dinner. We will meet again in a week and you will provide the promised food. I will contact you a day in advance with the location. Safe travels, Wizard." He turned away, shrinking back into human form much quicker than he'd transformed into a monster. I knew the jerk had done that on purpose.

I waited several minutes for him to clear out entirely, then began the trek back to the Blue Beetle. The good news was that I could probably eliminate Wendigos as suspects. There was the possibility that one of them had acted as a lone agent, but there was no conspiracy among them to kill Sean. The bad news was that I was almost out of leads.

Earlier today, I had checked my voice message system and found that Mr. Belfast had left the badge number of the detective that had brushed off Sean's disappearance. I was going to check on him tomorrow and hope that he had been bought off not to investigate, because otherwise I didn't know where to go from here.

Most of the time, by this point in a supernatural investigation I'd have been attacked at least once or twice. That tends to confirm that I'm on the right trail and gives me an additional lead to follow back to the culprit. In this case, the closest we'd come was the two ghouls that tried to grab Molly. Those attackers were as close to anonymous as you could get, given how many factions used ghouls as cheap muscle. The timing of the attack also made me wonder if it was even connected to this investigation.

Marcone had put out the word that he wanted to see me, and he was currently tangled with something from the spooky side, or so Gard had implied. His competitor could have heard and sent those ghouls to snatch Molly and get a hold over me. I just didn't know either way. The only thing I could be certain of was that it was no chance attack. They had tried to capture Molly instead of killing anyone, and they had been way too persistent for wild ghouls.

"What I wouldn't give to get a break on this case," I said with a sigh.

A blonde woman in a modest toga materialized beside me. My hand flashed to my blasting rod, but by the time it closed on the smooth wood I realized what had happened. "Good evening to you too, Lasciel. In case you were wondering, the answer is my soul."

She grinned at that with what looked like genuine amusement. "Suspicious as ever, my host. I only wish to be of service. You were already talking to yourself, so I thought I may as well provide someone to answer." She appeared to be walking in step with me, despite being a foot shorter and not having nearly the same stride. Of course, given that her entire presence was just an illusion, albeit a very convincing one, I suppose glossing over minor details wasn't much of a stretch.

I snorted. "I talked to myself for years before you ever showed up. And I'll keep doing it after I find a way to get rid of you." A tiny flicker of unease and sadness crossed her expression, but disappeared the moment I looked closer. I felt some guilt at that, I won't deny. Which is probably exactly what she was counting on. They don't call her 'The Temptress' for nothing.

"Nevertheless," she continued, "I would like to offer my insight."

I gave a neutral grunt, and continued my way down the trail.

A miniature version of Chicago appeared in front of me, every building and tree done to scale. It was an image of Little Chicago, my thaumaturgic link to the city at large. I continued walking, but the image glided in front of me, moving as I did. Which made sense, as it only existed in my mind. The memory of the spell I had used earlier to track Sean's movement on it flared to life, leaving streaks of glowing red winding between and among the pewter buildings. The red streaks were old, faint in some places, gone entirely in some others. Too much time had passed between Sean's movements and my spell to given me a clear picture. However, there wasn't even a speck of red near the lakefront, either airport, or edges of the city. Wherever Sean had gone, it wasn't far.

I arched an eyebrow at the shadow of the Fallen. "Okay, I'll bite. Where are you going with this?"

"Not to criticize, my host," and she gave a small smile that immediately marked that as a lie, "but when you examined the result of your spell you were too focused on where he was, not where he had been."

I frowned, but gestured for her to continue.

A blue circle appeared around part of his trail. "Sean drove to or past this area at least three times. If you examine it carefully you can see where multiple lines overlap. This part of town is several miles from the University, his apartment, and does not contain any shops, restaurants, or other places of entertainment." I peered down and noticed that she was right. Most of the area within the circle was industrial, and not the nicest neighborhood either.

"You think his mysterious 'job' was somewhere in that area."

She bowed, and gave me a wide smile. "And now, so do you."

I rolled my eyes, and brushed the image of the mini-city away with a swipe of my hand and an effort of will. "It's definitely worth looking into," I admitted. I hesitated a second, then sighed. "And thanks. I wasn't spinning my wheels just yet, but if that visit to the police tomorrow turns up nothing, I might have."

Lasciel glowed with gratitude so sincere it had to be fake. I rolled my eyes and reminded myself not to give her too much credit. Otherwise she might get a swelled head. "Although, since you mention your plan to visit the police, I do have a suggestion," she said. I glanced at her with a scowl and renewed suspicion, and she made a placating gesture. "I am only saying that your discussion with the detective should have a low chance of danger and yet would be considerably helped by a… girl that has an ear for truth."

My scowl deepened into something that would make King Kong proud. "Oh, yeah. I'm sure you don't have ulterior motive for suggesting that. Just looking to help with my investigation." Sarcasm dripped from my tone. She really should've quit while she was ahead instead of reminding me that she knew about the girls.

"Be serious," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and ducking under a low hanging branch as if it wouldn't have gone straight through her. "You even told them that you would ask for their help if they could help you. You've seen firsthand that she has great skill in that pursuit. And should it _somehow_ turn violent, she is hardly inexperienced with combat; even in her unfamiliar human form, she bested a ghoul with little trouble." She peered at me, her eyes piercing. "Why are you so afraid to involve them in this?"

"Because I don't want them to end up like me!" I snapped. "They're good. I mean fundamentally capital-G Good on a level that is fucking staggering. When they included me in their Harmony beam power-up thing, I felt a strength and purity in them that I can't even describe. That's the difference between us; that's what I want to protect them from. I'll stick it to the villains and stand up for the little guys, but at the end of the day, I've still got blood on my hands. I've done things I'm not proud of and I'll probably do more in the future. It's not about their physical safety – they can handle themselves in a fight, no problem. This is about putting them in a situation that stains them, that corrupts them. The further they get drawn into this, the more likely they are to do some necessary evil. They don't have the Elements here, they don't have the Princesses, and the one person they can depend on might just be the one to lead them down the left-hand path. In light of that, why am I not surprised that _you_ want them involved?"

I glared at Lasciel with undisguised fury and my fingers tightened on my blasting rod. Despite knowing that she wasn't really there, it was so tempting to shoot a fireball at her image, just for the pure catharsis of it. "Celestia was right. I _can't_ be trusted with you inside me, pushing my buttons and tempting me. You're the shadow of a Fallen, and no matter how polite you are, no matter how 'reasonable' your suggestions, I can't and won't trust you. You're one of the _things_ I need to protect them from the most."

Her expression cooled, and she folded her arms across her chest. "Then if I am such a danger and you are _so_ concerned, perhaps you should warn them. Let them know who and what I am, and how you came to have me bound to your soul." She gave a short, proper bow and rose, her eyes still hard and cold. "Until then, I wish you a good evening, my host." She vanished, and once more I was alone in the middle of a hiking trail.

I cursed under my breath and stormed back the rest of the way to my car. She hadn't called me a hypocrite, not directly anyway. She didn't need to. My conscience did the job for her all the way home. Sleep was a long time in coming that night.


End file.
